OF  THE 

U N 1VER.5  ITY 
or  ILLINOIS 

817 

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I The  person  charging  this  material  is  re- 
I sponsible  for  its  return  on  or  before  the 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2017  with  funding  from 

University  of  Illinois  Urbana-Champaign  Alternates 


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COLONEL  SELLERS  FEEDING  HIS  FAMILY  ON  EXPECTATIONS. 


T H E 


GILDED  AGE 

A TALE  OF  TO-DAY 


BY 

MARK  TWAIN 

(Samuel  L.  Clemens) 

Author  of  “Innocents  Abroad,”  “Roughing  It,”  bto. 

AND 

CHARLES  DUDLEY  WARNER 

Author  of  “ My  Summer  in  a Garden,”  “ Back  Log  Studies,"  etc. 


FULLY  ILLUSTRATED  FROM  NEW  DESIGNS 

BY  HOPPIN,  STEPHENS,  WILLIAMS,  WHITE,  ETC.,  ETC. 


SOLD  BY  SUBSCRIPTION  ONLY. 


HARTFORD,  CONN. : 

AMERICAN  PUBLISHING  COMPANY. 

18Y6. 


Entbrbd  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1873,  by 
SAMUEL  L.  CLEMENS, 

& 

CHARLES  D.  WARNER, 

in  the  office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington 


WM.  H.  LOCKWOOD. 

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PREFACE. 


This  book  was  not  written  for  private  circulation  among 
friends ; it  was  not  written  to  cheer  and  instruct  a diseased 
relative  of  the  author’s ; it  was  not  thrown  off  during  inter- 
vals of  wearing  labor  to  amuse  an  idle  hour.  It  was  not 
written  for  any  of  these  reasons,  and  therefore  it  is  submitted 
without  the  usual  apologies. 

It  will  be  seen  that  it  deals  with  an  entirely  ideal  State  of 
society ; and  the  chief  embarrassment  of  the  writers  in  this 
realm  of  the  imagination  has  been  the  want  of  illustrative 
examples.  In  a State  where  there  is  no  fever  of  speculation, 
no  inflamed  desire  for  sudden  wealth,  where  the  poor  are  all 
simple-minded  and  contented,  and  the  rich  are  all  honest  and 
generous,  where  society  is  in  a condition  of  primitive  purity 
and  politics  is  the  occupation  of  only  the  capable  and  the 
patriotic,  there  are  necessarily  no  materials  for  such  a history 
as  we  have  constructed  out  of  an  ideal  commonwealth. 

Ho  apology  is  needed  for  following  the  learned  custom  of 
placing  attractive  scraps  of  literature  at  the  heads  of  our 
chapters.  It  has  been  truly  observed  by  Wagner  that  such 
headings,  with  their  vague  suggestions  of  the  matter  which 
is  to  follow  them,  pleasantly  inflame  the  reader’s  interest 
without  wholly  satisfying  his  curiosity,  and  we  will  hope 
that  it  ma}^  be  found  to  be  so  in  the  present  case. 

Our  quotations  are  set  in  a vast  number  of  tongues  ; this 
is  done  for  the  reason  that  very  few  foreign  nations  among 
whom  the  book  will  circulate -can  read  in  any  language  but 
their  own  ; whereas  we  do  not  write  for  a particular  class  or 
sect  or  nation,  but  to  take  in  the  whole  world. 

We  do  not  object  to  criticism;  and  we  do  not  expect  that 


VI 


Preface. 


the  critic  will  read  the  book  before  writing  a notice  of 
it.  We  do  not  even  expect  the  reviewer  of  the  book  will 
say  that  he  has  not  read  it.  No,  we  have  no  anticipations  of 
anything  unusual  in  this  age  of  criticism.  But  if  the  Jupiter, 
who  passes  his  opinion  on  the  novel,  ever  happens  to  peruse 
it  in  some  weary  moment  of  his  subsequent  life,  we  hope 
that  he  will  not  be  the  victim  of  a remorse  bitter  but  too  late. 

One  word  more.  This  is — what  it  pretends  to  be — a joint 
production,  in  the  conception  of  the  story,  the  exposition  of 
the  characters,  and  in  its  literal  composition.  There  is 
scarcely  a chapter  that  does  not  bear  the  marks  of  the  two 
writers  of  the  book.  s.  l.  c. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I.  PiOB 

Squire  Hawkins  and  His  Tennessee  Land — He  Decides  to  Remove  to  Missouri  lY 

CHAPTER  II. 

He  Meets  With  and  Adopts  the  Boy  Clay 81 

CHAPTER  III. 

Uncle  Daniel’s  Apparition  and  Prayer 86 

CHAPTER  IV. 

The  Steamboat  Explosion. 41 

CHAPTER  V. 

Adoption  of  the  Little  Girl  Laura — Arrival  at  Missouri — Reception  by  Colo- 
nel Beriah  Sellers * 63 

CHAPTER  VI. 

Trouble  and  Darkness  in  the  Hawkins  Family — Proposed  Sale  of  the  Ten- 
nessee Laud 62 

CHAPTER  VII. 

Colonel  Sellers  at  Home — His  Wonderful  Clock  and  Cure  for  Rheumatism. . Y6 
CHAPTER  VIII. 

Colonel  Sellers  Makes  Known  His  Magnificent  Speculation  Schemes  and 

Astonishes  Washington  Hawkins 8S 

CHAPTER  IX. 

Death  of  Judge  Hawkins 98 

CHAPTER  X. 

Laura  Hawkins  Discovers  a Mystery  in  Her  Parentage  and  Grows  Morbid 

Under  the  Village  Gossip 100 


vni 


Contents. 


CHAPTER  XL 

A Dinner  with  Col.  Sellers — Wonderful  Effects  of  Raw  Turnips • 10t5 

CHAPTER  XII. 

Philip  Sterling  and  Henry  Brierly — Arrangements  to  Go  West  as  Engineers  114 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

Rail-Road  Contractors  and  Party  Traveling — Philip  and  Harry  form  the 

Acquaintance  of  Col.  Sellers 122 

CHAPTER  XIY. 

Ruth  Bolton  and  Her  Parents 132 

CHAPTER  XV. 

Visitors  of  the  Boltons — Mr.  Bigler  “ Sees  the  Legislature  ” — Ruth  Bolton 

Commences  Medical  Studies 139 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

The  Engineers  Detained  at  St.  Louis — Off  for  Camp — Reception  by  Jeff 

Thompson 14? 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

The  Engineer  Corps  Arrive  at  Stone’s  Landing 159 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 

Laura  and  Her  Marriage  to  Colonel  Selby — Deserted  and  Returns  to  Hawkeye  163 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

Harry  Brierly  Infatuated  With  Laura  and  Proposes  She  Visit  Washington. . 177 

CHAPTER  XX. 

Senator  Abner  Dilworthy  Visits  Hawkeye — Addresses  the  People  and  Makes 

the  Acquaintance  of  Laura 186 

CHAPTER  XXL 

Ruth  Bolton  at  Fallkill  Seminary — The  Montagues — Ruth  Becomes  Quite 

Gay — Alice  Montague 194 

CHAPTER  XXII. 

Philip  and  Harry  Visit  Fallkill — Harry  Does  the  Agreeable  to  Ruth 202 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 

Harry  at  Washington  Lobbying  For  An  Appropriation  For  Stone’s  Landing 

— Philip  in  New  York  Studying  Engineering 213 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 

Washington  and  Its  Sights — The  Appropriation  Bill  Reported  From  the 

Committee  and  Passed 217 

CHAPTER  XXV. 

Energetic  Movements  at  Stone’s  Landing — Everything  Booming — A Grand 

Smash  Up 228 


Contents. 


IX 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

The  Boltons — Ruth  at  Home — Visitors  and  Speculations  235 

CHAPTER  XXVII. 

Col.  Sellers  Comforts  His  Wife  With  His  Views  of  the  Prospects 244 

CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

Visit  to  Headquarters  in  Wall  Street — How  Appropriations  Are  Obtained 

and  Their  Cost 250 

CHAPTER  XXIX. 

Philip’s  Experience  With  the  Rail-Road  Conductor — Suiwevs  His  Mining 

Property 269 

CHAPTER  XXX. 

Laura  and  Col.  Sellers  Go  To  Washington  On  Invitation  of  Senator  Dilworthy  274 
CHAPTER  XXXI. 

Philip  and  Harry  at  the  Boltons’ — Philip  Seriously  Injured — Ruth’s  First 

Case  of  Surgery 278 

CHAPTER  XXXII. 

Laura  Becomes  a Famous  Belle  at  Washington 288 

CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

Society  in  Washington — The  Anticpies,  the  Parvenus,  and  the  Middle  Aris- 
tocracy   295 

CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

Grand  Scheme  For  Disposing  of  the  Tennesset'  [.and — Laura  and  Washing- 
ton Hawkins  Enjoying  the  Reputation  of  Being  Millionaires 314 

CHAPTER  XXXV. 

About  Senators — Their  Privileges  and  flai)its 320 

CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

An  Hour  in  a Book  Store 329 

CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

Representative  Buckstone  and  Laura’s  Strategic  Coquetry 335 

CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

Reception  Day  in  Washington — Laura  Again  Meets  Col.  Selby  and  the  Effect 

Upon  Her 340 

CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

Col.  Selby  Visits  Laura  and  Effects  a Reconciliation 849 

CHAPTER  XL. 

Col.  Sellers’  Career  in  Washington — Laura’s  Intimacy  With  Col.  Selby  is 

Talked  About 356 


X 


Contents. 


CHAPTER  XLI. 

Harry  Brierly  Becomes  Entirely  Infatuated  With  Laura — Declares  His  Love 

and  Gets  Laughed  At 362 

CHAPTER  XLII. 

How  The  Hon.  Mr.  Trollop  Was  Induced  to  Vote  For  Laura’s  Bill 372 

CHAPTER  XLIII. 

Progress  of  the  Bill  in  the  House 390 

CHAPTER  XLIV. 

Philip  in  Washington — Visits  Laura 396 

CHAPTER  XLV. 

The  Passage  of  the  Bill  in  the  House  of  Representatives 404 

CHAPTER  XLVI. 

IHsappearance  of  Laura,  and  Murder  of  Col.  Selby  in  New  York 416 

CHAPTER  XLVII. 

Laura  in  the  Tombs  and  Her  Visitors 426 

CHAPTER  XLVIII. 

Mr.  Bolton  Says  Yes  Again — Philip  Returns  to  the  Mines 434 

CHAPTER  XLIX. 

The  Coal  Vein  Found  and  Lost  Again — Philip  and  the  Boltons — Elated  and 

Then  Cruelly  Disappointed 448 

CHAPTER  L. 

Philip  Visits  Fallkill  and  Proposes  Studying  Law  With  Mr.  Montague — The 

’Squire  Invests  in  the  Mine — Ruth  Declares  Her  Love  for  Philip 453 

CHAPTER  LI. 

Col.  Sellers  Enlightens  Washington  Hawkins  on  the  Customs  of  Congress. . 466 

CHAPTER  LII. 

How  Senator  Dil worthy  Advanced  Washington’s  Interests 473 

CHAPTER  LIII. 

Senator  Dil  worthy  Goes  West  to  See  About  His  Re-election — He  Becomes  a 

Shining  Light 476 

CHAPTER  LIV. 

The  Trial  of  Laura  for  Murder 484 

CHAPTER  LV 

The  Trial  Continued— Evidence  of  Harry  Brierly 494 


Contents.  xi 

CHAPTER  LVI. 

The  Trial  Continued — Col.  Sellers  on  the  Stand  and  Takes  Advantage  of  the 

Situation 50S 

CHAPTER  LVII. 

The  Momentous  Day — Startling  News — Dilworthy  Denounced  as  a Briber 

and  Defeated — The  Bill  Lost  in  the  Senate 613 

CHAPTER  LVIII. 

Verdict,  Not  Guilty  ! — Laura  Free  and  Receives  Propositions  to  Lecture — 

Philip  bac  k at  the  Mines 521 

CHAPTER  LIX. 

The  Investigation  of  the  Dilworthy  Bribery  Case  and  Its  Results 630* 

CHAPTER  LX. 

Laura  Decides  on  her  Course — Attempts  to  Lecture  and  Fails — Found  Dead 

in  her  Chair 643 

CHAPTER  LXI. 

Col.  Sellers  and  Washington  Hawkins  Review  the  Situation  and  Leave 

Washington 652 

CHAPTER  LXII. 

Philip  Discouraged — One  More  Effort — Finds  Coal  at  Last 660' 

CHAPTER  LXIII. 

Philip  Leaves  Hium  to  see  Ruth — Ruth  Convalescent — Alice 667' 

APPENDIX.. 676b 


Col.  Sklleks  Feeding  His  Family  on  Expectations.. 
‘1.  Contemplation 

2.  The  Squire’s  House 

3.  The  U.  S.  Mail 

4.  Obedstown  Males 

5.  Hukrying 

6.  The  Squire’s  Kitchen' 

7.  “ For  Goodness  Sake,  Si." 

8.  The  Last  Cog  Wheel 

9.  Gone  Up 

10.  Tail  Piece 

11.  The  Orphan's  Last  Gift 

12.  Mrs.  Hawkins  and  Clay  at  the  Grave  of  His  Mother. 

13.  “Children,  Dah’s  Sumfin’  a Comin’,’’ 

14.  “ Heaii  I IS.  Lord,  Heah  I is  

15.  Tailpiece 

16.  Not  Encouraged 

17.  She’s  Gaining 

18.  “ By  the  Mark  Twain  !’’ 

19.  Fast  Together,  (Full  Page,)  Face  Page 

20.  One  OF  the  Victims .. 

21.  The  Procession— For>vard  March! 

22.  The  Happy  Wife 

23.  Laura 

24.  Heady  to  Sell 

25.  Stock  Rising 

26.  A Family  Council 

27.  Tail  Piece 

28.  Attempted  Corner  in  Specie 

29.  A Brilliant  Idea 

30.  Big  Things  shown  up 

31.  Col.  Sellers  Blowing  Bubbles  FOR  Washington 

. 82.  Gen.  Boswell’s  Office 


PAGE 

.Feontispieci....  — 

17 

18 

19 

20 

'22 

23 

24 

28 

29 

30 

S3 

(Full  Page,)  Face  Page  34 

36 

38 

40 

43 

45 

47 


51 

58 

59 
63 
65 
68 
72 
74 
77 
81 


91 


Illustrations.  xiii 

33.  Tail  Piece 92 

34.  Consolation 95 

35.  The  Dying  Father , 98 

36.  Tail  Piece 99 

37.  Laura  Seeking  Ft)K  Evidences  of  Her  Birth,  (Full  Page,)  Face  Page 101 

38.  Ever  True.. 105 

39.  A Healthy  Meal 110 

40.  Philip  at  the  Theatre 115 

41.  What  Philip  Learned  at  College IIT 

42.  The  Delegate’s  Interesting  Game 124 

43.  The  Person  of  Importance 128 

44.  “ Not  That.” 131 

45.  Ruth’s  Mother  Makes  Enquiries 134 

46.  The  Letter 138 

47.  Caring  for  the  Poor 142 

48.  Anatomical  Investigations 145 

49.  Ruth  Looking  at  the  “ New  One  ” by  Candle  Light,  (Fi  ll  Page,)  Face  Page 147 

60.  “ Only  for  You,  Briekly.” 15r 

51.  An  Acclimated  Man 154 

51.  No  Thanks  ! Good  Bye  ! 155 

52.  “ Bress  You,  Chile,  You  Dar  Now.”  Face  Page 156 

53.  Camp  Life,  Face  Page 156 

54.  Straight  From  the  Shoulder 157 

55.  Jeff  Thompson  as  a Nightingale 158 

56.  Bound  for  Stone’s  Landing 161 

57.  Stone’s  Landing.  (Full  Page,)  Face  Page 162 

58.  Waiting  for  a Railroad 16S 

59.  ‘‘It  Ain’t  There.” 165 

60.  Tail  Piece 167 

61.  Capture  of  Washington 171 

63.  Laura  Swooned,  (Full  Page.)  Face  Page 175 

62.  Tailpiece UO 

64.  Not  Easily  Referred 179 

65.  Order,  Gentlemen 186 

66.  The  Senator’s  Walk 192.' 

67.  Residence  of  ’Squire  Montague 196 

68.  Inside  the  Mansion - 19T 

69.  Ruth  

70.  Tail  Piece 201 

71.  Anticipation 206 

72.  Reality 206 

73.  Philip  Hears  Harry  Entertaining  Ruth 207 

74.  An  Entertaining  Fellow 209 

75.  Harry  Explains  Before  Sena  ie  Committee 214 

76.  Philip  Studying 215 

77.  ‘‘Keep  Out  of  Here,  Sir!” 215 

78.  An  Old  One 218 

79.  A Promenade  Outfit 219 

80.  Reared  by  a Grateful  Country 221 


xiv  Illustkations. 

<J1.  Benefit  of  Political  Influence 224 

82.  Tailpiece 227 

83.  Visions  OF  A Happy  Man 229 

84  Exodus  of  the  Natives 231 

85  Habry  Brierly  Flies  From  the  Mob.  (Full  Page,)  Face  Page 283 

86  Enjoying  the  Bonfire 234 

r;  Brother  Plum 240 

88.  Ruth  at  Home.  (Full  Page,)  Face  Page 241 

89.  Map  of  the  Salt  Lick  Branch  of  the  Pacific  R.  R.  Face  I*age 246 

90.  Result  of  a Straight  Line 248 

91.  At  Headquarters 251 

92.  Touching  a Weak  Spot 253 

93  Chairman  of  Committee,  $10,0tX) 254 

94.  Male  Lobbyist,  $3,000 255 

95.  Female  Lobbyist,  $3,000 255 

96  High  Moral  Senator,  $3,000 255 

97  Country  Member,  $500 256 

98  Documentary  Proof 259 

99  Colonel  Sellers  Despondent 262 

100  Tailpiece 263 

101  The  Monarch  of  All  He  Surveys 265 

102  Philip  Thrust  From  the  R R.  Cab.  (Full  Page,)  Face  Page 266 

103  Thh  Justice '. 268 

104  “ Mine  Inn.” '. 269 

105  A Pleasing  Landlord 271 

106.  Philip  Hired  Three  Woodsmen 272 

107  Tail  Piece 273 

108  Tail  Piece 277 

109  Bro  Balaam 279 

110.  The  Fire  Panic 286 

111.  Ruth  Assists  in  Dressing  Philip’s  Arm.  (Full  Page,)  Face  Page 287 

112.  The  First  Reception 291 

113  Vanity  Collapsed,  Tail  Piece 294 

114.  The  Attaches  of  the  Antiques 297 

115  Hon.  Oliver  Higgins 801 

116.  Pat,  O’Riley  and  the  “ Ould  Woman.” SOB 

117.  ITon.  P.  Oreille  and  Lady 304 

118.  An  Unmistakable  Potato  Mouth .’ 306 

119.  The  Three  Patients •. 310 

120.  Tail  Piece  313 

121.  Deliberate  Persecution 317 

122.  “ It  is  only  me  ” 321 

123.  ” All  Congressmen  do  that” 324 

124.  A Trick  Worth  Knowing 326 

125.  Col.  Sellers  Enlightening  The  Bohemians 327 

126.  Laura  in  the  Book  Store.  (Full  Page,)  Face  Page 329 

127.  Very  Agreeable 333 

128.  Playing  o Win 837 


Illustrations, 


XV 


129.  Shb  Said  ‘ Pardon  ’’ 

130.  “It’s  He!  It’s  He!” 

131.  Reflection 

132.  Once  Moke  Face  to  Face 

133.  Col.  Selby  Kneels  and  Kisses  Her  Hand 

134.  Jolly  Good  Company 

135  Supper  or  Breakfast  ? 

136.  Tail  Piece 

137.  A Lady-Killer  Tamed 

138.  Consuming  Love 

139.  A Convert  to  Women’s  Rights 

140.  Opening  Negotiations 

141.  Not  Just  Yet 

142.  Well  Posted 

143.  Mr.  Trollop  Thinks  It  Over 

144.  Dilwortht  Gives  Laura  His  Blessing.  (Full  Page,)  Face  Page 

145.  Unnecessary  Precaution 

146.  Where  the  Protection  is  Needed 

147.  An  Object  of  Sympathy 

148.  Children  of  Hope 

149  The  Editor 

150.  Philip  Leaving  Laura.  Tail  Piece 

151.  Chairman  OF  THE  Committee 

152.  The  House 

153.  CoL.  Sellers  Asleep  in  House  of  Representatives.  (Full  Page,)  J^ce  Page... 

154.  A Hearty  Shake 

155.  Senator  Dilworthy  Tranquil 

156.  “ She  Ain’t  Dah,  Sar.’’ 

157.  As  THE  Witnesses  Described  It 

158.  The  Learned  Doctors 

159.  Important  Business 

160.  Col.  Sellers  and  Washington  in  Laura’s  Cell.  (Full  Page,)  I\ice  Page 

161.  Promised  Patronage.  

162.  No  Lo^e  Like  a Mother’s 

163.  Cleaned  Out  But  Not  Crushed 

164.  The  Landlord  Taking  Lessons 

165.  Tail  Piece 

166.  *■  We’vb  Struck  It.” 

167.  The  Mine  at  Ilium 

168.  The  Hermit  . 

169.  Tail  Piece  

170  One  Ch.'INCE  Open  

171.  What  He  Expected  To  Be 

172.  Alas  ! Poor  Alice 

173.  How  He  Was  Drawn  In 

174.  Everything. 

175.  Tail  Piece 

176.  “ Come  Now,  Let's  Cheer  Up  


. 342 

. 344 

. 345 

, 350 

, 352 

356 

, 360 

361 

265 

367 

370 

875 

380 

384 

387 

389 

391 

392 

393 

398 

399 

403 

406 

408 

412 

414 

417 

418 

422 

423 

424 

428 

429 

432 

435 

441 

442 

444 

448 

451 

452 

455 

456 

459 

460 

468 

464 

470 


XVI 


Illustrations. 


m 

47» 

480 

48S 

.487 


177.  A Shinikg  Example 

178.  The  Sewing  Society  Dodge 

179.  Dilworthy  Addresses  a Sunday  School.  (Full  Page.)  Face  P.xj*- 

180  Tail  PiEeE 

181.  The  Judge 

182.  Laura  on  Trial- 4gg 

183.  Michael  Lanigan 435 

184.  Patrick  Coughlin 

185.  Ethan  Dobb 

186.  Mr.  Hicks 49.^ 

187.  Search  for  a Father ^ 

188.  Taking  advantage  of  a Lull 50g 

189.  Term  expired 

190.  Re-elected 514 

191.  The  “faithful  old  hand”.  51g 

192.  A Fire  Drand 51g 

193.  Tail  Piece 

194.  Col.  Sellers  and  Washington  Return  Home  after  the  Vote 520 

195.  A Court— IN  Scene 523 

196.  Popular  Endorsement 525 

197.  One  of  the  Insulted  Members 532 

198.  Touched  by  the  Struggles  of  the  Poor 535 

199.  Mr.  Noble  asks  Questions 535 

The  Worn  Out  Style  of  Senator 541 

The  Past,  Present,  and  Future 54S 

The  Last  Link  Broken 546 

The  Terrible  Ordeal 549 

Retrospection.  (Full  Page,)  FacePage 551 

Good  Bye  to  Washington 554 

Tailpiece 559 

The  Parting  Blast  Offered 562 

The  Last  Blast 564 

Struck  It  at  Last 566 

The  Rich  Proprietor 568 

The  Sick  Chamber.  (Full  Page,)  Face  Page 570 

Alice 878 


200. 

201. 

202. 

203. 

204. 

205. 

206. 
207. 


THE  GILDED  AGE 


CHAPTER  L 


Nibiwa  win  o-dibendan  akL 

£!ng.  A gallant  tract 
Of  land  it  is  ! 

Meercraft.  ’Twill  yield  a pound  an  acre: 
We  must  let  cheap  ever  at  first.  But,  sir, 
This  looks  too  large  for  you,  I see. 


18 — . Squire  Hawkins 
sat  upon  the  pyramid  of  large 
blocks,  called  the  ‘‘stile,”  in 
front  of  his  house,  contempla- 
ting the  morning. 

The  locality  was  Ohedstown, 
East  Tennessee.  You  would 
not  know  that  Obedstown 
stood  on  the  top  of  a mount- 
ain, for  there  was  nothing 
about  the  landscape  to  indicate 
it — but  it  did:  a mountain  that 
stretclied  abroad  over  whole  counties,  and  rose  very  gradually. 
The  district  was  called  the  “ Knobs  of  East  Tennessee,”  and 
had  a reputation  like  Hazareth,  as  far  as  turning  out  any  good 
thing  was  concerned. 

The  Squire’s  house  was  a double  log  cabin,  in  a state  of 
decay  ; two  or  three  gaunt  hounds  lay  asleep  about  the  threshr 
old,  and  lifted  their  heads  sadly  whenever  Mrs.  Hawkins  or 
the  children  stepped  in  and  out  over  their  bodies.  Rubbish 
was  scattered  about  the  grassless  yard;  a bench  stood  near 
2 17 


18 


SQUIRE  HAWKINS. 


tlie  door  with  a tin  wasli  basin  on  it  and  a pail  of  water  and 
a gourd;  a cat  had  begun  to  drinh  from  the  pail,  but  the 
exertion  was  overtaxing  her  energies,  and  she  had  stopped  to 


THE  squire’s  house. 


rest.  There  was  an  ash-hopper  by  the  fence,  and  an  iron  pot, 
for  soft-soap-boiling,  near  it. 

This  dwelling  constituted  one-iifteenth  of  Obedstown ; the 
other  fourteen  houses  were  scattered  about  among  the  tall 
pine  trees  and  among  the  corn-fields  in  such  a way  that  a man 
might  stand  in  the  midst  of  the  city  and  not  know  but  that 
he  was  in  the  country  if  he  only  depended  on  his  eyes  for 
information. 

^‘Squire’’  Hawkins  got  his  title  from  being  postmaster  ot 
Obedstown — not  that  the  title  pi’upcrly  belonged  to  the  ottice, 
but  because  in  those  regions  the  chief  citizens  always  must 
have  titles  of  some  sort,  and  so  the  usual  coui’tesy  had  been 
extended  to  Hawkins.  The  mail  was  monthly,  and  some- 
times amounted  to  as  much  as  three  or  tour  letters  at  a single 
delivery.  Even  a rush  like  this  did  not  till  up  the  postmaster’s 


AKEIVAL  OF  THE  MAILS. 


19 


wliole  month,  though,  and  therefore  he  “ kept  store  ” in  the 
intervals. 

The  Squire  was  contemplating  the  morning.  It  was  balmy 
and  tranquil,  the  vagrant  breezes  were  laden  with  the  odor 
of  flowers,  the  murmur  of  bees  was  in  the  air,  there  was 
everywhere  that  suggestion  of  repose  that  summer  woodlands 
bring  to  the  senses,  and  the  vague,  pleasurable  melancholy 
that  such  a time  and  such  surroundings  inspire. 

Presently  the  United  States  mail  arrived,  on  horseback. 
There  was  but  one  letter,  and  it  was  for  the  postmaster.  The 


THE  U.  S.  MAIL. 


long-legged  youth  who  carried  the  mail  tarried  an  hour  to 
talk,  for  there  was  no  hurry ; and  in  a little  while  the  male 
population  of  the  village  had  assembled  to  help.  As  a general 
thing,  they  were  dressed  in  homespun  “ jeans,”  blue  or  yellow — • 
there  were  no  other  varieties  of  it ; all  wore  one  suspender  and 
sometimes  two — yarn  ones  knitted  at  home, — some  wore  vests, 
but  few  wore  coats.  Such  coats  and  vests  as  did  appear,  how- 
ever, were  rather  picturesque  than  otherwise,  for  they  were 
made  of  tolerably  fanciful  patterns  of  calico — a fashion  which 
prevails  there  to  this  day  among  those  of  the  community  who 
have  tastes  above  the  common  level  and  are  able  to  afford 
style.  Every  individual  arrived  with  his  hands  in  his 
pockets;  a hand  came  out  occasionally  for  a purpose,  but  it 
always  went  back  again  after  service;  and  if  it  was  tlie 


20 


ASSEMBLED  TO  TALK. 


head  that  was  served,  just  the  cant  that  the  dilapidated 
straw  hat  got  hj  being  uplifted  and  rooted  under,  was 
retained  until  the  next  call  altered  the  inclination ; many  hats 


OBEDSTOWN  MALES. 


were  present,  but  none  were  erect  and  no  two  were  canted 
just  alike.  We  are  speaking  impartially  of  men,  youths  and 
boys.  And  we  are  also  speaking  of  these  three  estates  when 
we  say  that  every  individual  was  either  chewing  natural  leaf 
tobacco  prepared  on  his  own  premises,  or  smoking  the  same 
in  a corn-cob  pipe.  Few  of  the  men  wore  whiskers ; none 
wore  moustaches ; some  had  a thick  jungle  of  hair  under  the 
chin  and  hiding  the  throat — the  only  pattern  recognized  there 
as  being  the  correct  thing  in  whiskers ; but  no  part  of  any 
individuars  face  had  seen  a razor  for  a week. 

These  neighbors  stood  a few  moments  looking  at  the  mail 
carrier  reflectively  while  he  talked ; but  fatigue  soon  began 
to  show  itself,  and  one  after  another  they  climbed  up  and 
occupied  the  top  rail  of  the  fence,  hump-shouldered  and  grave, 


A TENNESSEE  PIG-STYE. 


21 


like  a company  of  buzzards  assembled  for  supper  and  listen- 
ing for  the  death-rattle.  Old  Damrell  said : 

“Tha  hain’t  no  news  ’bout  the  jedgo,  hit  ain’t  likely  ?” 

Cain’t  tell  for  sartin ; some  thinks  he’s  gwyne  to  be  ’long 
toreckly,  and  some  thinks  ’e  hain’t.  Kuss  Mosely  he  tole  ole 
Hanks  he  mought  git  to  Obeds  tomorrer  or  nex’  day  he 
reckoned.” 

‘‘Well,  I wisht  I knowed.  I got  a prime  sow  and  pigs  in 
the  cote-house,  and  I hain’t  got  no  place  for  to  put  ’em.  If 
the  jedge  is  a gwyne  to  hold  cote,  I got  to  roust  ’em  out,  I 
reckon.  But  tomorrer’ll  do,  I ’spect.” 

The  speaker  bunched  his  thick  lips  together  like  the  stem- 
•end  of  a tomato  and  shot  a bumble-bee  dead  that  had  lit  on  a 
weed  seven  feet  away.  One  after  another  the  several  chew* 
<ers  expressed  a charge  of  tobacco  juice  and  delivered  it  at 
the  deceased  with  steady  aim  and  faultless  accuracy. 

“What’s  a stirrin’,  down  ’bout  the  Forks?”  continued  Old 
Damrell. 

“Well,  I dunno,  skasely.  Ole  Drake  Higgins  he’s  ben 
-down  to  Shelby  las’  week.  Tuck  his  crap  down  ; couldn’t  git 
;shet  o’  the  most  uv  it ; hit  warn’t  no  time  for  to  sell,  he  say, 
so  he  fetch  it  back  agin,  ’lowin’  to  wait  tellhil].  Talks  ’bout 
goiif  to  Mozouri — lots  uv  ’ems  talkin’  tliat-away  down  thar, 
Ole  Higgins  say.  Cain’t  make  a livin’  here  no  mo’,  sich 
limes  as  these.  Si  Higgins  he’s  ben  over  to  Kaintuck  n’ 
married  a high-toned  gal  thar,  outen  the  fust  families,  an’  he’s 
come  back  to  the  Forks  with  jist  a hell’s-mint  o’  whoop-jam- 
boree notions,  folks  says.  He’s  tuck  an’  fixed  up  the  ole 
house  like  they  does  in  Kaintuck,  he  say,  an’  tha’s  ben  folks 
■come  cler  from  Turpentine  for  to  see  it.  He’s  tuck  an’ 
gawmed  it  all  over  on  the  inside  wdth  plarsterin’.” 

“ What’s  plarsterin’  ? ” 

“ I dono.  Hit’s  what  he  calls  it.  Ole  Mam  Higgins,  she 
tole  me.  She  say  she  warn’t  gwyne  to  hang  out  in  no  sich  a 
dern  hole  like  a hog.  Says  it’s  mud,  or  some  sich  kind  o’ 
nastness  tliat  sticks  on  n’  kivers  up  everything.  Plarsterin’, 
(Si  calls  it.” 

This  marvel  was  discussed  at  considerable  length;  and 


22 


THE  SQUIRE  DECIDES. 


almost  with  animation.  But  presently  there  was  a dog-fight 
over  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  blacksmith  shop,  and  the 
visitors  slid  otf  their  perch  like  so  many  turtles  and  strode  to- 


HURRYING. 


the  battle-field  with  an  interest  bordering  on  eagerness.  The 
Squire  remained,  and  read  his  letter.  Then  he  sighed,  and 
sat  long  in  meditation.  At  intervals  he  said  : 

‘‘Missouri.  Missouri.  Well,  well,  well,  everything  is  so 
uncertain.” 

At  last  he  said : 

“ I believe  I’ll  do  it. — A man  will  just  rot,  here.  My  honse^ 
my  yard,  everything  around  me,  in  fact,  shows  that  I am 
becoming  one  of  these  cattle — and  I used  to  be  thrifty  in 
other  times.” 

He  was  not  more  than  thirty -five,  but  he  had  a worn  look 
that  made  him  seem  older.  He  left  the  stile,  entered  that 
part  of  his  house  which  was  the  store,  traded  a quart  of  thick 
molasses  for  a coonskin  and  a cake  of  beeswax  to  an  old  damo 
in  linsey-woolsey,  put  his  letter  away,  and  went  into  the 
kitchen.  His  wife  was  there,  constructing  some  dried  apple 
pies;  a slovenly  urchin  of  ten  was  dreaming  over  a rude 
weather-vane  of  his  own  contriving;  his  small  sister,  close- 
upon  four  years  of  age,  was  sopping  corn-bread  in  some  gravy 
left  in  the  bottom  of  a frying-pan  and  trying  hard  not  to  sop 


A PKIVATE  CONFERENCE. 


23 


over  a finger-niark  that  divided  the  pan  through  the  inidule 
— for  the  other  side  belonged  to  the  brother,  whose  mnsings 
made  him  forget  his  stomach  for  the  moment;  a negro 


THE  squire’s  kitchen. 


woman  was  busy  cooking,  at  a vast  fire-place.  Shiftlessnesa 
and  poverty  reigned  in  the  place. 

‘‘l^ancy,  I’ve  made  np  my  mind.  The  world  is  done  with 
me,  and  perhaps  I ought  to  be  done  with  it.  But  no  matter 
— I can  wait.  I am  going  to  Missouri.  I won’t  stay  in  this 
dead  country  and  decay  with  it.  I’ve  had  it  on  my  mind 
some  time.  Ihn  going  to  sell  out  here  for  whatever  I can  get, 
and  buy  a wagon  and  team  and  put  you  and  the  children  in 
it  and  start.” 

“Anywliere  that  suits  you,  suits  me,  Si.  And  the  chil- 
dren can’t  he  any  worse  off  in  Missouri  than  they  are  here,  I 
reckon.” 

Motioning  his  wife  to  a private  conference  in  their  own 
room,  Hawkins  said:  ‘‘Ho,  thej^’ll  be  better  off.  Bve  looked 
out  for  tliein^  Nancy,”  and  his  face  lighted.  “Do  you  see 
these  papers?  Well,  they  are  evidence  that  1 have  taken  up 
Seventy-five  Thousand  Acres  of  Land  in  this  county — think 
what  an  enormous  fortune  it  will  be  some  day  ! Why,  Nancy, 
enormous  don’t  express  it  — the  word’s  too  tame  ! I tell  you, 
Nancy ” 

“ For  goodness  sake,  Si 


24 


A I^’OllTUIsE  IN  rEOSPECTIVE. 


!N’ancj,  wait — let  me  finish — I’ve  been  secretly 
boiling  and  fuming  with  this  grand  inspiration  for  weeks,  and 
I must  talk  or  I’ll  burst ! I haven’t  whispered  to  a soul — not 
a word — have  had  my  countenance  under  lock  and  key,  for 
fear  it  might  drop  something  that  would  tell  even  these  ani- 
mals here  how  to  discern  the  gold  mine  that’s  glaring  under 
their  noses.  How  all  that  is  necessary  to  hold  this  land  and 
keep  it  in  the  family  is  to  pay  the  trifling  taxes  on  it  yearly 
— five  or  ten  dollars — tJie  whole  tract  would  not  sell  for  over 
a third  of  a cent  an  acre  now,  but  some  day  people  will  be 
glad  to  gat  it  lor  twenty  dollars,  fifty  dollars,  a hundred  dob 


“for  goodness  sakes,  si.” 


lars  an  acre ! "VYliat  should  you  say  to  ’’  [here  he  dropped 
his  voice  to  a whisper  and  looked  anxiously  around  to  see 
that  there  were  no  eavesdroppers,]  “ a thousand  dollars  an 
acre  ! 

‘‘AVell  you  may  open  3mur  eyes  and  stare!  But  it’s  so. 
You  and  I may  not  see  the  day,  br.t  iheydl  see  it.  Mind  I 


THE  WONDERFUL  TENNESSEE  LANDS. 


25 


tell  you,  they’ll  see  it.  Nancy,  you’ve  heard  of  steamboats, 
and  may  be  you  believed  in  them — of  course  you  did.  Y ou’ve 
heard  these  cattle  here  scoff  at  them  and  call  them  lies  and 
humbugs, — but  they’re  not  lies  and  humbugs,  they’re  a real- 
ity and  they’re  going  to  be  a more  wonderful  thing  some 
day  than  they  are  now.  They’re  going  to  make  a revolution 
in  this  world’s  affairs  that  will  make  men  dizzy  to  contem- 
plate. I’ve  been  watching — I’ve  been  watching  while  some 
people  slept,  and  I know  wdiat’s  coming. 

“Even  you  and  I wdll  see  the  day  that  steamboats  will  come 
up  that  little-  Turkey  river  to  within  twenty  miles  of  this 
land  of  ours — and  in  high  water  they’ll  come  right  to  \t\ 
And  this  is  not  all,  Nancy — it  isn’t  even  half!  There’s  a 
bigger  wonder — the  railroad  ! These  worms  here  have  never 
even  heard  of  it — and  when  they  do  they’ll  not  believe  in  it. 
But  it’s  another  fact.  Coaches  that  fly  over  the  ground 
twenty  miles  an  hour — heavens  and  earth,  think  of  that, 
Nancy  ! Twenty  miles  an  hour.  It  makes  a man’s  brain 
whirl.  Some  day,  when  you  and  I are  in  our  graves,  there’ll 
be  a railroad  stretching  hundreds  of  miles — all  the  way  down 
from  the  cities  of  the  Northern  States  to  New  Orleans — and 
its  got  to  run  within  thirty  miles  of  this  land — may  be  even 
touch  a corner  of  it.  Well,  do  you  know,  they’ve  quit  burn- 
ing wood  in  some  places  in  the  Eastern  States  ? And  w'hat 
do  you  suppose  they  burn?  Coal!”  [lie  bent  over  and 
whispered  again  :]  “ There^s  \oliole  worlds  of  it  on  this  land  ! 

Y^ou  know  fhat  black  stuff’  that  crops  out  of  the  bank  of  the 
branch? — well,  that’s  it.  Y^ou’ve  taken  it  for  rocks  ; so  has 
every  body  here  ; and  they’ve  built  little  dams  and  such 
things  wdth  it.  One  man  w^as  going  to  build  a chimney  out  of  it. 
Nancy  I expect  I turned  as  white  as  a sheet!  Why,  it  might  have 
caught  fire  and  told  everything.  I showed  him  it  was  too 
crumbly.  Then  he  was  going  to  build  it  of  copper  ore — 
splendid  yellow  forty-per-cent,  ore ! There’s  fortunes  upon 
fortunes  of  copper  ore  on  our  land!  It  scared  me  to  death, 
the  idea  of  this  fool  starting  a smelting  furnace  in  his  house 


26 


WE  WILL  GO  TO  MISSOURI. 


without  knowing  it,  and  getting  his  dull  eyes  opened.  And 
then  he  was  going  to  build  it  of  iron  ore ! There’s  mountains 
of  iron  ore  here,  Nancy — whole  mountains  of  it.  1 wouldn’t 
take  any  chances.  I just  stuck  by  him — I haunted  him — I 
never  let  him  alone  till  he  built  it  of  mud  and  sticks  like  all 
the  rest  of  the  chimneys  in  this  dismal  country.  Pine  forests, 
wheat  land,  corn  land,  iron,  copper,  coal — wait  till  the  rail- 
roads come,  and  the  steamboats  ! TF^’ZZ  never  see  the  day,, 
Nancy — never  in  the  world — never,  never,  never,  child. 
We’ve  got  to  drag  along,  drag  along,  and  eat  crusts  in  toil 
and  poverty,  all  hopeless  and  forlorn — but  they'll  ride  in 
coaches,  Nancy  ! They’ll  live  like  the  princes  of  the  earth  ; 
they’ll  be  courted  and  worshiped ; their  names  will  bo 
known  from  ocean  to  ocean  ! Ah,  well-a-day  ! Will  they 
ever  come  back  here,  on  tlie  railroad  and  the  steamboat,  and 
say  ‘ This  one  little  spot  shall  not  be  touched — this  hovel 
shall  be  sacred — for  here  our  father  and  our  mother  suffered 
for  us,  thought  for  us,  laid  the  foundations  of  our  future  as 
soHd  as  the  hills  ! ’ ” 

‘‘You  are  a great,  good,  noble  soul,  Si  Hawkins,  and  I am 
an  honored  woman  to  be  the  wife  of  such  a man  ” — and  the 
tears  stood  in  her  eyes  when  she  said  it.  “We  will  go  to 
Missouri.  Yon  are  out  of  your  place,  here,  among  these 
groping  dumb  creatures.  We  will  ffnd  a higher  place,  where 
you  can  walk  with  your  own  kind,  and  be  understood  when 
you  speak — not  stared  at  as  if  you  were  talking  some  foreign 
tongue.  I would  go  anywhere,  anywPere  in  the  wide  world 
with  you.  I would  rather  my  body  shoifiid  starve  and  die 
than  your  mind  should  hunger  and  wither  away  in  this  lonely 
land.” 

“ Spoken  like  yourself,  my  child ! But  we’ll  not  starve, 
Nancy.  Far  from  it.  I have  a letter  from  Beriah  Sellers 
—just  came  this  day.  A letter  that— I’ll  read  you  a line 
from  it ! ” 

He  flew  out  of  the  room.  A shadow  blurred  the  sunlight 
in  Nancy’s  face— there  was  uneasiness  in  it,  and  disappoint- 


EEMINISCFA-CES  OF  BEEIAH  SELLEES.  2T 

ment.  A procession  of  disturbing  tliouglits  began  to  troop 
through  her  mind.  Saying  nothing  aloud,  she  sat  witli  her 
hands  in  her  lap  ; now  and  then  she  clasped  them,  then  un- 
clasped them,  then  tapped  the  ends  of  the  fingers  together; 
sighed,  nodded,  smiled — occasionally  ^^aused,  shook  her  head. 
This  pantomime  was  the  elocutionary  expression  of  an  un- 
spoken soliloquy  which  had  something  of  this  shape : 

was  afraid  of  it — was  afraid  of  it.  Trying  to  make 
our  fortune  in  Virginia,  Beriah  Sellers  nearly  ruined  us — 
and  we  had  to  settle  in  Kentucky  and  start  over  again. 
Trying  to  make  our  fortune  in  Kentucky  he  crippled  us 
again  and  we  had  to  move  here.  Trying  to  make  our  fortune 
here,  he  brought  us  clear  down  to  the  ground,  nearly.  lie’s 
an  honest  soul,  and  means  the  very  best  in  the  world,  but 
I’m  afraid,  I’m  afraid  he’s  too  flighty.  He  has  splendid 
ideas,  and  he’ll  divide  his  chances  with  his  friends  with  a free- 
hand, the  good  generous  soul,  but  something  does  seem  to 
always  interfere  and  spoil  everything.  I never  did  think  he 
was  right  well  balanced.  But  I don’t  blame  my  husband^ 
for  I do  think  that  when  that  man  gets  his  head  full  of  anew 
notion,  he  can  out-talk  a machine.  He’ll  make  anybody  be- 
lieve in  that  notion  that’ll  listen  to  him  ten  minutes — why  L 
do  believe  he  would  make  a deaf  and  dumb  man  believe  in 
it  and  get  beside  himself,  if  you  only  set  him  where  he  could 
see  his  eyes  talk  and  watch  his  hands  explain.  What  a head 
he  has  got ! When  he  got  up  that  idea  there  in  Virginia  of 
buying  up  whole  loads  of  negroes  in  Delaware  and  Virginia 
and  Tennessee,  very  quiet,  having  papers  drawn  to  have  them 
delivered  at  a place  in  Alabama  and  take  them  and  pay  for 
them,  away  yonder  at  a certain  time,  and  then  in  the  mean- 
time get  a law  made  stopping  everybody  from  selling  negroes 
to  the  south  after  a certain  day — it  was  somehow  that  way — - 
mercy  how  the  man  would  have  made  money ! Kegroes 
would  have  gone  up  to  four  prices.  But  after  he’d  spent 
money  and  worked  hard,  and  traveled  hard,  and  had  heaps 
of  negroes  all  contracted  for,  and  everything  going  along; 


28 


FORTUNES  LOST. 


just  right,  he  couldn’t  get  tlie  laws  passed  and  down  the 
whole  thing  tumbled.  And  there  in  Kentucky,  when  he 
raked  up  that  old  numskull  tliat  had  been  inventing  away  at 
a perpetual  motion  machine  for  twenty-two  years,  and  Beriah 
Sellers  saw  at  a glance  where  just  one  more  little  cog-wheel 
would  settle  the  business,  why  I could  see  it  as  plain  as  day 
when  he  came  in  wild  at  midnight  and  hammered  us  out  of 
bed  and  told  the  whole  thing  in  a whisper  with  the  doors 


THE  LAST  COG  WHEEL. 


bolted  and  the  candle  in  an  empty  barrel.  Oceans  of  money 
in  it — anybody  could  see  that.  But  it  did  cost  a deal  to  buy 
the  old  numskull  out — and  then  when  they  put  the  new  cog- 
wheel in  they’d  overlooked  something  somewhere  and  it 
wasn’t  any  use — the  troublesome  thing  wouldn’t  go.  That 
notion  he  got  up  here  did  look  as  handy  as  anything  in  the 
world  ; and  how  him  and  Si  did  sit  up  nights  working  at  it 
with  the  curtains  down  and  me  watching  to  see  if  any  neigh- 
bors were  about.  The  man  did  honestly  believe  there  was 
a fortune  in  that  black  gummy  oil  that  stews  out  of  the  bank 
Si  says  is  coal ; and  he  refined  it  himself  till  it  was  like 
water,  nearly,  and  it  did  burn,  there’s  no  two  ways  about 
that ; and  I reckon  he’d  have  been  all  right  in  Cincinnati 
with  his  lamp  that  he  got  made,  that  time  he  got  a house  full 
of  rich  speculators  to  see  him  exhibit  only  in  the  middle  of 


A MODEL  LETTER. 


2'^ 


his  speech  it  let  go  and  almost  blew  the  heads  off  the  whole 
crowd.  I haven’t  got  over  grieving  for  the  money  that  cost^^ 


GONE  UP. 


yet.  I am  sorry  enough  Beriah  Sellers  is  in  Missouri,  now,, 
but  I was  glad  when  he  went.  I wonder  what  his  letter 
says.  But  of  course  it’s  cheerful ; h^s  never  down-hearted 
■ — never  had  any  trouble  in  his  life — didn’t  know  it  if  he  had. 
It’s  alwa3^s  sunrise  with  that  man,  and  fine  and  blazing,  at 
that — never  gets  noon,  though — leaves  off  and  rises  again. 
Nobody  can  help  liking  the  creature,  he  means  so  well — but 
I do  dread  to  come  across  him  again ; he’s  bound  to  set  ua 
all  crazy,  of  course.  Well,  there  goes  old  widow  Hopkins — 
it  always  takes  her  a week  to  bu}^  a spool  of  thread  and  trade 
a hank  of  yarn.  Maybe  Si  can  come  with  the  letter,  now.’^ 
And  he  did : 

Widow  Hopkins  kept  me — I haven’t  any  patience  with, 
such  tedious  people.  Now  listen,  Nancy — ^just  listen  at 
this : 

“ ‘ Come  right  along  to  Missouri  ! Don’t  wait  and  worry  about  a good  price 
but  sell  out  for  whatever  you  can  get,  and  come  along,  or  you  might  be  too  late. 
Throw  away  your  traps,  if  necessary,  and  come  empty-handed.  You’ll  never 
regret  it.  It’s  the  grandest  country — the  loveliest  land — the  purest  atmosphere 
can  t describe  it ; no  pen  can  do  it  justice.  And  it’s  filling  up,  every  day — ■ 
people  coming  Irom  everywhere.  I’ve  got  the  biggest  scheme  on  earth — and  I'll 
take  you  in;  I’ll  take  in  every  friend  I’ve  got  that’s  ever  stood  by  me,  for  there’a 


^0 


OEF  FOR  MISSOURI. 


enough  for  all,  and  to  spare.  Mum’s  the  word — don’t  whisper — keep  yourself 
to  yourself.  You’ll  see  ! Come  ! — rush  ! — hurry  ! — don’t  wait  for  anything!  ’ 

It’s  the  same  old  boy,  Nancy,  just  the  same  old  boy — 
ain’t  he  ? ” 

“ Yes,  I think  there’s  a little  of  the  old  sound  about  his 
voice  yet.  I suppose  you — you’ll  still  go.  Si?  ” 

‘^Go ! Well,  I should  think  so,  Nancy.  It’s  all  a chance, 
of  course,  and  chances  haven’t  been  kind  to  us.  I’ll  admit — 
but  whatever  comes,  old  wife,  they^Q  provided  for.  Thank 
God  for  that ! ” 

“ Amen,”  came  low  and  earnestly. 

And  with  an  activity  and  a suddenness  that  bewildered 
'Obedstown  and  almost  took  its  breath  away,  the  Hawkinses 
hurried  through  with  their  arrangements  in  four  short  months 
and  flitted  out  into  the  great  mysterious  blank  that  lay 
beyond  the  Knobs  of  Tennessee. 


CHAPTER  IL 

:>vA:  KAOt”>"= 

aCK'X^z  : (D^f^lA.: 

: 'n^  : (D'A'K^  = ^>4^4.  K - 

Toward  the  dose  of  the  third  day’s  journey  the  wayfarers 
were  just  beginning  to  think  of  camping, when  they  came 
upon  a log  cabin  in  the  woods.  Hawkins  drew  rein  and  entered 
the  yard.  A hoy  about  ten  years  old  was  sitting  in  the  cabin 
door  with  his  face  bowed  in  his  hands.  Hawkins  approached, 
expecting  his  footfall  to  attract  attention,  but  it  did  not. 
He  halted  a moment,  and  then  said : 

^^Come,  come,  little  chap,  you  mustn’t  be  going  to  sleep 
before  sundown.” 

With  a tired  expression  the  small  face  came  up  out  of  the 
hands, — a face  down  which  tears  were  flowing. 

“Ah,  I’m  sorry  I spoke  so,  my  boy.  Tell  me — is  anything 
the  matter  ? ” 

The  boy  signifled  with  a scarcely  perceptible  gesture  that 
the  trouble  was  in  the  house,  and  made  room  for  Hawkins  to 
pass.  Then  he  put  his  face  in  his  hands  again  and  rocked 
himself  about  as  one  suffering  a grief  that  is  too  deep  to  find 
help  in  moan  or  groan  or  outcry.  Hawkins  stepped  within.  It 
was  a poverty  stricken  place.  Six  or  eight  middle-aged  coun- 
try people  of  both  sexes  were  grouped  about  an  object  in  the 
middle  of  the  room;  they  were  noiselessly  busy  and  they 
talked  in  whispers  when  they  spoke.  Hawkins  uncovered 
and  approached.  A coffin  stood  upon  two  backless  chairs. 
These  neighbors  had  just  finished  disposing  the  body  of  a 
woman  in  it — a woman  with  a careworn,  gentle  face  that  had 
more  the  look  of  sleep  about  it  than  of  death.  An  old  lady 
motioned  toward  the  door  and  said  to  Hawkins  in  a whisper : 

31 


32 


THE  DEAD  MOTHER. 


‘‘Ilis  mother,  po’  thing.  Died  of  the  fever,  last  night. 
Tha  warn’t  no  sich  thing  as  saving  of  her.  But  it’s  better 
for  her — better  for  her.  Husband  and  the  other  two  children 
died  in  the  spring,  and  she  hain’t  ever  hilt  up  her  head  sence. 
She  jest  went  around  broken-hearted  like,  and  never  took  no  in- 
trust in  anything  but  Clay — that’s  the  bo}’'  thar.  She  jest  wor- 
shiped Clay — and  Clay  he  worshiped  her.  They  didn’t  ’pear 
to  live  at  all,  only  when  they  was  together,  looking  at  each 
other,  loving  one  another.  She’s  ben  sick  three  Aveeks ; and 
if  you  believe  me  that  child  has  worked,  and  kep’  the  run  of 
the  med’cin,  and  the  times  of  giving  it,  and  sot  up  nights  and 
nussed  her,  and  tried  to  keep  up  her  sperits,  the  same  as  a 
grown-u23  person.  And  last  night  when  she  kep’  a sinking 
and  sinking,  and  turned  away  her  head  and  didn’t  know  him 
no  mo’,  it  was  fitten  to  make  a body’s  heart  break  to  see  him 
climb  onto  the  bed  and  lay  his  cheek  agin  hern  and  call  her 
so  pitiful  and  she  not  answer.  But  bymeby  she  roused  up, 
like,  and  looked  around  wild,  and  then  she  see  him,  and  she 
made  a great  cry  and  snatched  him  to  her  breast  and  hilt  him 
close  and  kissed  him  over  and  over  agin ; but  it  took  the  last 
po’  strength  she  had,  and  so  her  eyelids  begin  to  close  down, 
and  her  arms  sort  o’  drooped  away  and  then  we  see  she  was 
gone,  po’  creetur.  And  Clay,  he — Oh,  the  po’  motherless 
tiling — I cain’t  talk  about  it — I cain’t  bear  to  talk  about  it.” 

Clay  had  disappeared  from  the  door ; but  he  came  in,  now, 
and  the  neighbors  reverently  fell  apart  and  made  way  for  him. 
He  leaned  upon  the  open  coffin  and  let  his  tears  course  silently. 
Then  he  put  out  his  small  hand  and  smoothed  the  hair  and 
stroked  the  dead  face  lovingly.  After  a bit  he  brought  his 
other  hand  up  from  behind  him  and  laid  three  or  four  fresh 
wild  flowers  upon  the  breast,  bent  over  and  kissed  the  unre- 
sponsive lips  time  and  time  again,  and  then  turned  away  and 
went  out  of  the  house  without  looking  at  any  of  the  company. 
The  old  lady  said  to  Hawkins : 

“ She  always  loved  that  kind  o’  flowers.  He  fetched  ’em 
for  her  every  morning,  and  she  always  kissed  him.  They  was 
from  away  north  somers — she  kep’  school  when  she  fust  come. 
Goodness  knows  what’s  to  become  o’  that  po’  boy.  Ho  father. 


CASTING  BREAD  UPON  THE  WATERS. 


33 


no  mother,  no  kin  folks  of  no  kind.  Nobody  to  go  to,  nobody 


THE  orphan’s  last  GIFT. 

that  k’yers  for  him — and  all  of  us  is  so  put  to  it  for  to  get 
along  and  families  so  large.” 

Hawkins  understood.  All  eyes  were  turned  inquiringly 
upon  him.  He  said : 

‘‘Friends,  I am  not  very  well  provided  for,  myself,  but 
still  I would  not  turn  my  back  on  a homeless  orphan.  If  he 
will  go  with  me  I will  give  him  a home,  and  loving  regard — • 
I will  do  for  him  as  I would  have  another  do  for  a child  of 
my  own  in  misfortune.” 

One  after  another  the  people  stepped  forward  and  wrung 
the  stranger’s  hand  with  cordial  good  will,  and  their  eyes 
looked  all  that  their  hands  could  not  express  or  their  lips 
speak. 

“ Said  like  a true  man,”  said  one. 

“You  was  a stranger  to  me  a minute  ago,  but  you  ain’t 
now,”  said  another. 

“ It’s  bread  cast  upon  the  waters — it’ll  return  after  many 
” said  the  old  lady  whom  we  have  heard  speak  before. 


84: 


THE  NEW  MOTHER. 


‘‘  T Oil  got  to  camp  in  my  house  as  long  as  you  hang  out 
here,”  said  one.  If  tha  hain’t  room  for  you  and  yourn  my 
tribe’ll  turn  out  and  camp  in  the  hay  loft.” 

A few  minutes  afterward,  while  the  preparations  for  the 
funeral  were  being  concluded,  Mr.  Hawkins  arrived  at  his 
wagon  leading  his  little  waif  by  the  hand,  and  told  his  wife 
all  that  had  happened,  and  asked  her  if  he  had  done  right  in 
giving  to  her  and  to  himself  this  new  care  ? She  said  : 

“ If  you’ve  done  wrong.  Si  Hawkins,  it’s  a wrong  that  will 
shine  brighter  at  the  judgment  day  than  the  rights  that  m£my 
a man  has  done  before  you.  And  there  isn’t  any  compliment 
you  can  pay  me  equal  to  doing  a thing  like  this  and  finishing 
it  up,  just  taking  it  for  granted  that  I’ll  be  willing  to.it. 
"Willing?  Come  to  me,  you  poor  motherless  boy, and  let  me 
take  your  grief  and  help  you  carry  it.” 

When  the  child  awoke  in  the  morning,  it  was  as  if  from  a 
troubled  dream.  But  slowly  the  confusion  in  his  mind  took 
form,  and  he  remembered  his  great  loss ; the  beloved  form 
in  the  coffin ; his  talk  with  a generous  stranger  who  ofiered 
him  a home ; the  funeral,  where  the  stranger’s  wife  held  him 
by  the  hand  at  the  grave,  and  cried  with  him  and  comforted 
him ; and  he  remembered  how  this  new  mother  tucked  him 
in  his  bed  in  the  neighboring  farm  house,  and  coaxed  him  to 
talk  about  his  troubles,  and  then  heard  him  say  his  prayers 
and  kissed  him  good  night,  and  left  him  with  the  soreness  in 
his  heart  almost  healed  and  his  bruised  spirit  at  rest. 

And  now  the  new  mother  came  again,  and  helped  him  to 
dress,  and  combed  his  hair,  and  drew  his  mind  away  by 
degrees  from  the  dismal  yesterday,  by  telling  him  about  the 
wonderful  journey  he  was  going  to  take  and  the  strange  things 
he  was  going  to  see.  And  after  breakfast  they  two  went 
alone  to  the  grave,  and  his  heart  went  out  to  his  new  friend 
and  his  untaught  eloquence  poured  the  praises  of  his  buried 
idol  into  her  ears  without  let  or  hindrance.  Together  they 
planted  roses  by  the  headboard  and  strewed  wild  flowers  upon 
the  grave ; and  then  together  they  went  away,  hand  in  hand, 
and  left  the  dead  to  the  long  sleep  that  heals  all  heart-aches 
and  ends  all  sorrows. 


MRS.  HAWKINS  AND  CLAY  AT  THE  GRAVE  OF  HlS  MOTHER, 


CHAPTER  III. 


— Babillebalou  ! (disoit-il)  voici  pis  qu’antan.  Fuyons ! C’est,  par  la  mort 
boeuf ! Leviathan,  descript  par  le  noble  prophcte  Mosis  en  la  vie  du  sainct 

home  Job,  II  nous  nvallcra  tons,  comme  pilules Voy  le  cy.  O 

que  tu  es  horrible  et  abhominable  ! . . . . Ho  ho!  Liable, Satanas,  Levia- 

than ! Je  ne  te  peux  veoir,  tant  tu  es  ideux  et  detestable. 


"TTTIIATEYER  the  lagging  dragging  journey  may  have 
M T been  to  the  rest  of  the  emigrants,  it  was  a wonder  and 
delight  to  the  children,  a world  of  enchantment ; and  they 
believed  it  to  be  peopled  with  the  mysterious  dwarfs  and 
giants  and  goblins  that  figured  in  the  tales  the  negro  slaves 
were  in  the  ha]>it  of  telling  them  nightly  by  the  shuddering 
li2:ht  of  the  kitchen  fire. 

At  the  end  of  nearly  a week  of  travel,  the  party  went  into 
camp  near  a shabby  village  which  was  caving,  house  by  house, 
into  the  hungry  Mississippi.  Tlie  river  astonished  the  chil- 
dren beyond  measure.  Its  mile-breadth  of  water  seemed  an 
ocean  to  them,  in  the  shadowy  twilight,  and  the  vague  riband 
of  trees  on  the  further  shore,  the  verge  of  a continent'  which 
surely  none  but  they  had  ever  seen  before. 

“ Uncle  Dan’l  ” (colored,)  aged  40 ; his  wife,  aunt  Jinny,” 
aged  30,  “Young  Miss”  Emily  Hawkins,  “ Young  Mars” 
Washington  Hawkins  and  “Young  Mars”  Clay,  the  new 
member  of  the  family,  ranged  themselves  on  a log,  after  sup- 
per, and  contemplated  the  marvelous  river  and  discussed  it. 
The  moon  rose  and  sailed  aloft  through  a maze  of  shredded 
cloud-wreaths  ; the  sombre  river  just  perceptibly  brightened 
under  the  veiled  light ; a deep  silence  pervaded  the  air  and 
was  emphasized,  at  intervals,  rather  than  broken,  by  the  hoot- 
ing of  an  owl,  the  baying  of  a dog,  or  the  mutfied  crash  of  a 
==iaving  bank  in  the  distance. 

The  little  company  assembled  on  the  log  were  all  children, 

35 


36 


UNCLE  DANIEL’S  APPARITION. 


(at  least  in  simplicity  and  broad  and  comprehensive  ignorance,) 
and  the  remarks  they  made  about  the  river  were  in  keeping 
with  the  character ; and  so  awed  were  they  by  the  grandeur 
and  the  solemnity  of  the  scene  before  them,  and  by  their 
belief  that  the  air  was  filled  with  invisible  spirits  and  that  the 
faint  zephyrs  were  caused  by  their  passing  wings,  that  all 
their  talk  took  to  itself  a tinge  of  the  supernatural,  and  their 
voices  were  subdued  to  a low  and  reverent  tone.  Suddenly 
Uncle  Dan’l  exclaimed : 

“ Chil’en,  dab’s  sum  fin  a comin ! ” 

All  crowded  close  together  and  every  heart  beat  faster. 


“children  dah’s  sumfjn’  a comin’ 1” 


Uncle  Dan’l  pointed  down  the  river  with  his  bony  finger. 

A deep  coughing  sound  troubled  the  stillness,  way  toward 
a wooded  cape  that  jutted  into  the  stream  a mile  distant. 
All  in  an  instant  a fierce  eye  of  fire  shot  out  from  behind  the 
cape  and  sent  a long  brilliant  pathway  quivering  athwart  the 
dusky  water.  The  coughing  grew  louder  and  louder,  the 
glaring  eye  grew  larger  and  still  larger,  glared  wilder  and 


A MODEL  PRAYER. 


37 


still  wilder.  A huge  shape  developed  itself  out  of  the 
gloom,  and  from  its  tall  duplicate  horns  dense  volumes  of 
smoke,  starred  and  spangled  with  sparks,  poured  out  and 
went  tumbling  away  into  the  farther  darkness,  l^earer  and 
nearer  the  thing  came,  till  its  long  sides  began  to  glow  with 
spots  of  light  which  mirrored  themselves  in  the  river  and 
attended  the  monster  like  a torchlight  procession. 

‘“  What  is  it ! Oh,  what  is  it,  Uncle  Dan'l!” 

With  deep  solemnitj  the  answer  came: 

‘‘  It’s  (le  Almighty  ! Git  down  on  yo’  knees!  ” 

It  was  not  necessary  to  say  it  twice.  They  were  all  kneel- 
ing, ill  a moment.  And  then  while  the  mysterious  coughing 
rose  stronger  and  stronger  and  the  threatening  glare  reached 
farther  and  wider,  the  negro’s  voice  lifted  up  its  supplica- 
tions : 

“ O Lord,  we’s  ben  mighty  wicked,  an’  we  knows  dat  we 
’zerve  to  go  to  de  bad  place,  but  good  Lord,  deah  Lord,  w^e 
ain't  ready  yit,  we  ain’t  ready — let  dese  po’  chil’en  hab  one 
smo’  chance,  jes’  one  mo’  chance.  Takede  oleniggah  if  you’s 
got  to  liab  somebody. — Good  Lord,  good  deah  Lord,  we  don’t 
know  whah  yoii’s  a gwyne  to,  we  don’t  know  who  you’s  got 
yo’  eye  on,  but  we  knows  by  de  way  you’s  a coinin’,  we 
knows  by  de  way  you’s  a tiltin’  along  in  yo’  charyot  o’  fiah 
dat  some  po’  sinner’s  a gwyne  to  ketch  it.  But  good  Lord, 
dese  chil’en  don’t  b’long  heah,  dey’s  f’m  Obedstown  whah  dey 
don’t  know  nuflin,  an’  you  knows,  yo’  own  sef,  dat  dey  ain’t 
^sponsible.  An’  deah  Lord,  good  Lord,  it  ain’t  like  yo’ 
mercy,  it  ain’t  like  yo’  pity,  it  ain’t  like  yo’  long-sufferin’ 
lovn'n’-kindness  for  to  take  dis  kind  o’  ’vantage  o’  sich  little 
ehil’en  as  dese  is  when  dey’s  so  many  ornery  grown  folks 
chuck  full  o’  cussedness  dat  wants  roastin’  down  dah.  Oh, 
Lord,  spall  de  little  chil’en,  don’t  tar  de  little  cliil’en  away 
f’m  dey  frens,  jes’  let  ’em  off  jes’  dis  once,  and  take  it  out’n 
de  ole  niggah.  Heah  I is.  Lord,  heah  I is ! De  ole  nig- 

gali’s  read_y,  Lord,  de  ole ” 

The  flaming  and  churning  steamer  was  right  abreast  the 
party,  and  not  twenty  steps  away.  The  awful  thunder  of  a 


38 


THE  EFFICIENCY  OF  FKAYER. 


mud-valve  suddenly  burst  forth,  drowning  the  prayer,  and 
as  suddenly  Uncle  Dan’l  snatched  a child  under  each  arm 


and  scoured  into  the  woods  with  the  rest  of  the  pack  at  his 
heels.  And  then,  ashamed  of  himself,  he  halted  in  the  deep 
darkness  and  shouted,  (but  rather  feebly : ) 

^‘Ileah  I is.  Lord,  heah  I is ! ” 

There  was  a moment  of  throbbing  suspense,  and  then,  to 
the  surprise  and  the  comfort  of  the  party,  it  was  plain  that 
the  august  presence  had  gone  by,  for  its  dreadful  noises  were 
receding.  Uncle  Dan’l  headed  a cautious  reconnoissance  in 
the  direction  of  the  log.  Sure  enough  the  Lord  ’’  was 
just  turning  a point  a short  distance  up  the  river,  and  while 
they  looked  the  lights  winked  out  and  the  coughing  dimim 
ished  by  degrees  and  presently  ceased  altogether. 

“IL’wsh!  Well  now  dey’s  some  folks  says  dey  ain’t  no 
’ficiency  in  prah.  Dis  chile  would  like  to  know  whah  we’d 
a ben  now  if  it  warn’t  fo’  dat  prah  % Dat’s  it.  Dat’s  it ! ” 


UNCLE  DANIEL  APPEALS  TO  THE  BIBLE. 


39 


“Uncle  Dan’l,  do  you  reckon  it  was  the  prayer  that  saved 
us  ? ” said  Clay. 

“ Does  I reclwn  ? Don’t  I Tcnow  it ! Whah  was  yo’  eyes  I 
Warn’t  de  Lord  jes’  a coinin’  chow!  chow!  enow!  an’  a 
goin’  on  turrible — an’  do  de  Lord  carry  on  dat  way  ’dout 
dey’s  sumfin  don’t  suit  him  ? An’  warn’t  he  a lookin’  right  at 
dis  gang  heah,  an’  warn’t  he  jes’  a reachin’  for  ’em  % An’ 
d’you  spec’  he  gwyne  to  let  ’em  off  ’dout  somebody  ast  him 
to  do  it  ? Uo  indeedy  ! ” 

“ Do  you  reckon  he  saw  us,  Uncle  Dan’l  % ” 

“De  law  sakes,  chile,  didn’t  I see  him  a lookin’  at  us?” 

“Did  you  feel  scared.  Uncle  Dan’l?” 

sail!  When  a man  is  ’gaged  in  prah,  he  ain’t  fraid 
o’  nuffin — dey  can’t  nulfin  tetch  him.” 

“Well  what  did  you  run  for  ? ” 

“Well,  I — I — mars  Clay,  when  a man  is  under  de  influ- 
ence oh  de  sperit,  he  do-no  what  he’s  ’bout — no  sah  ; dat  man 
do-no  what  he’s  ’bout.  You  mout  take  an’  tah  de  head  off’n 
dat  man  an’  he  wouldn’t  scasely  fine  it  out.  Dali’s  de  Hebrew 
chil’en  dat  went  frough  de  fiah ; dey  was  burnt  considable — • 
ob  coase  dey  was ; but  dey  didn’t  know  nuffin  ’bout  it — heal 
right  up  agin  ; if  dey’d  ben  gals  dey’d  missed  dey  long  haah, 
(hair,)  maybe,  but  dey  wouldn’t  felt  de  burn.” 

“/don’t  know  but  what  they  were  girls.  I think  they 
were.” 

“How  mars  Clay,  you  knows  bettern  dat.  Sometimes  a 
body  can’t  tell  whedder  you’s  a sayin’  what  you  means  or 
whedder  you’s  a sayin’  what  you  don’t  mean,  ’case  you  says 
’em  bofe  de  same  way.” 

“But  how  should  I know  whether  they  were  boys  or 
girls?” 

“ Goodness  sakes,  mars  Clay,  don’t  de  Good  Book  say  % 
’Sides,  don’t  it  call  ’em  de  A^-brew  chil’en  ? If  dey  was  gals 
wouldn’t  dey  be  de  she-brew  chil’en  ? Some  people  dat  kiu 
read  don’t  ’pear  to  take  no  notice  when  dey  do  read.” 

“Well,  Uncle  Dan’l,  I think  that My  ! here  comes 

another  one  up  the  river ! There  can’t  be  two  ! ” 


40 


GONE  DIS  TIME. 


“We  gone  dis  time — we  done  gone  dis  time,  sho’!  Dej  ain’t 
two,  mars  Clay — dat’s  de  same  one.  De  Lord  kin  ’pear 
ebery  whah  in  a second.  Goodness,  bow  de  fiah  and  de  smoke 
do  belcb  up ! Dat  mean  business,  honey.  He  cornin’  now 
like  he  fo’got  sumfin.  Come  ’long,  chil’en,  time  yon’s  gwyne 
to  roos’.  Go  ’long  wid  yon — ole  Uncle  Daniel  gwyne  ont  in 
de  woods  to  rastle  in  prah — de  ole  nigger  gwyne  to  do  what 
he  kin  to  sabe  yon  agin.” 

He  did  go  to  the  woods  and  pray ; bnt  he  went  so  far  that 
he  doubted,  himself,  if  the  Lord  heard  him  when  He  went 
by. 


CHAPTER  IV. 


—Seventhly,  Before  his  Voyage,  He  should  make  his  peace  with  God,  satiafie? 
tis  Creditors  if  he  be  in  debt ; Pray  earnestly  to  God  to  prosper  him  in  his 
Voyage,  and  to  keep  him  from  danger,  and,  if  he  be  sui  jut'is,  he  should  make 
his  last  will,  and  wisely  order  all  his  affairs,  since  many  that  go  far  abroad, 
return  not  home.  (This  good  and  Christian  Counsel  is  given  by  Martinus  ZeiU 
^rus  in  his  Apodemical  Canons  before  his  Itinerary  of  Spain  and  Portugal.) 

Early  in  the  morning  Squire  Hawkins  took  passage  in  a 
small  steamboat,  with  his  family  and  his  two  slaves,  and 
presently  the  bell  rang,  the  stage-plank  was  hauled  in,  and 
the  vessel  proceeded  up  the  river.  The  children  and  the 
slaves  were  not  much  more  at  ease  after  finding  out  that 
this  monster  was  a creature  of  human  contrivance  than  they 
were  the  night  before  when  they  thought  it  the  Lord  of 
heaven  and  earth.  They  started,  in  fright,  every  time  the 
gauge-cocks  sent  out  an  angry  hiss,  and  they'  quaked  from 
head  to  foot  when  the  mud- valves  thundered.  The  sliiver- 
ing  of  the  boat  under  the  beating  of  the  wheels  was  sheer 
misery  to  them. 

But  of  course  familiarity  with  these  things  soon  took  away 
their  terrors,  and  then  the  voyage  at  once  became  a glorious 
adventure,  a royal  progress  through  the  very  heart  and  home 
of  romance,  a realization  of  their  rosiest  wonder-dreams. 
They  sat  by  the  hour  in  the  shade  of  the  pilot  house  on  the 
hurricane  deck  and  looked  out  over  the  curving  expanses  of 
the  river  sparkling  in  the  sunlight.  Sometimes  the  boat 
fought  the  mid-stream  current,  with,  a verdant  world  on  either 
hand,  and  remote  from  both ; sometimes  she  closed  in  under 
a point,  where  the  dead  water  and  the  helping  eddies  were, 
and  shaved  the  bank  so  closely  that  the  decks  were  swept  by 
the  jungle  of  over-hanging  willows  and  littered  with  a spoil 
of  leaves;  departing  from  these  ^‘points”  she  regularly 
crossed  the  river  every  five  miles,  avoiding  the  bight”  of 
the  great  bends  and  thus  escaping  the  strong  current ; some- 

41 


42 


ON  THE  MISSISSIPPI. 


times  slie  went  out  and  skirted  a liigli  ‘Mduff  ” sand-bar  in  the 
middle  of  tlie  stream,  and  occasionally  followed  it  up  a little 
too  far  and  touclied  upon  tlie  shoal  water  at  its  head — and 
then  the  intelligent  craft  refused  to  run  herself  aground,  but 
smelt”  the  bar,  and  straightway  the  foamy  streak  that 
streamed  away  from  her  bows  vanished,  a great  foamless 
wave  roiled  forward  and  passed  her  under  way,  and  in  this 
instant  she  leaned  far  over  on  her  side,  shied  from  the  bar 
and  fled  square  away  from  the  danger  like  a frightened  thing 
- — and  the  pilot  was  lucky  if  he  managed  to  “ straighten  her 
up  ” before  she  drove  her  nose  into  the  opposite  bank ; some- 
times she  approached  a solid  wall  of  tall  trees  as  if  she  meant 
to  break  through  it,  but  all  of  a sudden  a little  crack  would 
open  just  enough  to  admit  her,  and  away  she  would  go  plow- 
ing through  the  chute”  with  just  barely  room  enough 
between  the  island  on  one  side  and  the  main  land  on  the 
other;  in  this  sluggish  water  she  seemed  to  go  like  a race- 
horse ; now  and  then  small  log  cabins  appeared  in  little  clear- 
ings, with  the  never-failing  frowsy  women  and  girls  in  soiled 
and  faded  linsey-woolsey  leaning  in  the  doors  or  against  wood- 
piles  and  rail  fences,  gazing  sleepily  at  the  passing  show ; 
sometimes  she  found  shoal  water,  going  out  at  the  head  of 
those  “chutes”  or  crossing  the  river,  and  then  a deck-hand 
stood  on  the  bow  and  hove  the  lead,  while  the  boat  slowed 
down  and  moved  cautiously  ; sometimes  she  stopped  a moment 
at  a landing  and  took  on  some  freight  or  a passenger  while  a 
crowd  of  slouchy  white  men  and  negroes  stood  on  the  bank 
and  looked  sleepily  on  with  their  hands  in  their  pantaloons 
pockets,- — of  course — for  they  never' took  them  out  except  to 
stretch,  and  when  they  did  this  they  squirmed  about  and 
reached  their  fists  up  into  the  air  and  lifted  themselves  on 
tip-toe  in  an  ecstasy  of  enjoyment. 

When  the  sun  went  down  it  turned  all  the  broad  river  to  a 
national  banner  laid  in  gleaming  bars  of  gold  and  purple  and 
crimson  ; and  in  time  these  glories  faded  out  in  the  twilight 
and  left  the  fairy  archipelagoes  reflecting  their  fringing  foli- 
age in  the  steely  mirror  of  the  stream. 


43 


STEAlvIEO.VT  AMUSEMENTS. 

At  night  the  boat  forged  on  through  the  deep  solitudes  of 
the  river,  hardly  ever  discovering  a light  to  testify  to  a 
Imrnan  presence — mile  after  mile  and  league  after  league  th& 
vast  bends  were  guarded  by  unln-oken  walls  of  forest  that 
had  never  been  disturbed  by  the  voice  or  the  foot-fall  of  a 
man  or  felt  the  edge  of  his  sacrilegious  axe. 

An  hour  after  supper  the  moon  came  up,  and  Clay  and 
Washington  ascended  to  the  hurricane  deck  to  revel  again  in 
their  new  realm  of  enchantment.  They  ran  races  up  and 
down  the  deck ; climbed  about  the  bell ; made  friends  with 
the  passenger-dogs  chained  under  the  life-boat ; tried  to  make 


NOT  ENCOURAGED. 


friends  with  a passenger-bear  fastened  to  the  verg^-staff  but 
were  not  encouraged ; skinned  the  cat  ” on  the  hog-chains 
in  a word,  exhausted  the  amusement-possibilities  of  the  deck. 
Then  they  looked  wistfully  up  at  the  pilot  house,  and  finally 5, 
little  by  little.  Clay  ventured  up  there,  followed  diffidently 
by  Washington.  The  pilot  turned  presently  to  ^‘get  his 
stem-marks,”  saw  the  lads  and  invited  them  in.  Now  their 
happiness  was  complete.  This  cosy  little  house,  built  entirely 
of  glass  and  commanding  a marvelous  prospect  in  every 
direction  was  a magician’s  throne  to  them  and  their  enjoy- 
ment  of  the  place  was  simpty  boundless. 

They  sat  them  down  on  a high  bench  and  looked  miles- 
ahead  and  saw  the  wooded  capes  fold  back  and  reveal  the 
bends  beyond;  and  they  looked  miles  to  the  rear  and  saw 


44 


THE  AMAIiANTH’S  COMING! 


the  silvery  highway  diminish  its  breadth  by  degrees  and  close 
itself  together  in  the  distance.  Presently  the  pilot  said : 

By  George,  yonder  comes  the  Amaranth  ! ” 

A spark  a])peared,  close  to  the  water,  several  miles  down 
the  river.  The  pilot  took  his  glass  and  looked  at  it  steadily 
for  a moment,  and  said,  chiefly  to  himself: 

^Gt  can’t  be  the  Blue  Wing.  She  couldn’t  pick  us  up  this 
Tvay.  It’s  the  Amaranth,  sure.” 

He  bent  over  a speaking-tube  and  said : 

Who’s  on  watch  down  tliere  ? ” 

A hollow,  unhuman  voice  rumbled  up  through  the  tube 
in  ansv»"er : 

“Aam.  Second  engineer.” 

Good  ! You  want  to  stir  your  stumps,  now,  Harry — the 
*Amaran til’s  just  turned  the  point — and  she’s  just  a-humping 
'herself,  too ! ” 

The  pilot  took  hold  of  a rope  that  stretched  out  forward, 
jerked  it  twice,  and  two  mellow  strokes  of  the  big  bell 
responded.  A voice  out  on  the  deck  shouted: 

“ Stand  b}',  down  there,  with  that  labboard  lead ! ” 

‘^Ho,  I don’t  want  the  lead,”  said  the  pilot,  ‘‘I  want  you. 
Houst  out  the  old  man — tell  him  the  Amaranth’s  coming. 
And  go  and  call  Jim — tell  hiring 

^‘Aye-aye,  sir!” 

The  old  man  ” Avas  the  captain — he  is  apA^ays  called  so, 
on  steamboats  and  ships;  ‘‘Jim”  was  the  other  pilot.  With- 
in two  minutes  both  of  these  men  were  flying  up  the  pilot- 
house stairway,  three  steps  at  a jump.  Jim  was  in  his  shirt- 
aleeves,  Avith  his  coat  and  vest  on  his  arm.  He  said: 

“I  AA^as  just  turning  in.  W1  3re’s  the  glass?” 

He  took  it  and  looked  : 

“Don’t  appear  to  be  any  night-haAvk  on  the  jack-staff — it’s 
ihe  Amaranth,  dead  sure!” 

The  captain  took  a good  long  look,  and  only  said : 

“Damnation  ! ” 

George  Davis,  the  pilot  on  watch,  shouted  to  the  night- 
watclnu.an  on  dr'ck: 

“ How’s  she  loaded?” 


ALL  HAADS  AliOY  ! LIVELY  NOW. 


45 


“ Two  inches  by  the  head,  sir.” 

‘‘  ’T  ain’t  enough ! ” 

The  captain  shouted,  now : 

Call  the  mate.  Tell  him  to  call  all  hands  and  get  a lot 
of  that  sugar  forrard — put  her  ten  inches  by  the  head.  Lively^,  * 
now ! ” 

Aye-aye,  sir ! ” - 

A riot  of  shouting  and  trampling  floated  up  from  below^ 
presently,  and  the  uneasy  steering  of  the  boat  soon  showed 
that  she  was  getting  down  by  the  head.” 

The  three  men  in  the  pilot  house  began  to  talk  in  shorty 


she’s  gaining. 


sharp  sentences,  low  and  earnestly.  As  their  excitement 
rose,  their  voices  went  down.  As  fast  as  one  of  them  put 
down  the  spy -glass  another  took  it  up — but  always  with  a 
studied  air  of  calmness.  Each  time  the  verdict  was : 

“ She’s  a gaining!” 

The  captain  spoke  through  the  tube : 

“ What  steam  are  you  carrying  ? ” 

“ A hundred  and  forty -tAvo,  sir  1 But  she’s  getting  hotter 
and  hotter  all  the  time.” 

The  boat  was  straining  and  groaning  and  quivering  like  a 
monster  in  pain.  Both  pilots  were  at  work  now,  one  on  each 
side  of  the  wheel,  wdth  their  coats  and  vests  off,  their  bosoms 
and  collars  wide  open  and  the  perspiration  flowing  down  their 
faces.  They  were  holding  the  boat  so  close  to  the  shore  that 


46 


MUEDEREirS  CHUTE! 


tlie  willows  swept  the  guards  almost  from  stem  to  stem, 
Stand  by  ! ” whispered  George. 

All  ready  ! ” said  Jim,  under  his  breath. 

Let  her  come  ! ” 

The  boat  sprang  away  from  the  bank  like  a deer,  and 
darted  in  a long  diagonal  toward  the  other  shore.  She  closed 
in  again  and  thrashed  her  fierce  way  along  the  willows  as 
befoi’e.  The  captain  put  down  the  glass : 

Lord  how  she  walks  up  on  us  ! 1 do  hate  to  be  beat ! ” 

Jim,”  said  George,  looking  straight  ahead,  watching  the 
slightest  yawing  of  the  boat  and  promptly  meeting  it  with 
the  wheel,  how’ll  it  do  to  try  Murderer’s  Chute  ? ” 

“Well,  it’s — it’s  taking  chances.  How  was  the  cotton- 
wood stump  on  the  false  point  below  Boardman’s  Island  this 
'.morning  ? ” * 

“ Water  just  touching  the  roots.” 

“ W ell  it’s  pretty  close  work.  That  gives  six  feet  scant  in 
the  head  of  Murderer’s  Chute.  We  can  just  barely  rub 
through  if  we  hit  it  exactly  right.  But  it’s  worth  trying. 
She  don’t  dare  tackle  it ! ” — meaning  the  Amaranth. 

In  another  instant  the  Boreas  plunged  into  what  seemed  a 
crooked  creek,  and  the  Amaranth’s  approaching  lights  were 
shut  out  in  a moment.  Hot  a whisper  w^as  uttered,  now,  but 
the  three  men  stared  ahead  into  the  shadows  and  two  of  them 
spun  the  wheel  back  and  forth  with  anxious  watchfulness 
while  the  steamer  tore  along.  The  chute  seemed  to  come  to 
an  end  every  fifty  yards,  but  always  opened  out  in  time. 
Kow  the  head  of  it  was  at  hand.  George  tapped  the  big  bell 
three  times,  two  leadsmen  sprang  to  their  posts,  and  in  a 
moment  their  weird  cries  rose  on  the  night  air  and  were 
caught  up  and  repeated  by  two  men  on  the  upper  deck: 

“ Ho-o  bottom ! ” 

“De-e-p  four ! ” 

“Half  three!” 

Quarter  three  ! ” 

Mark  under  wa-a-ter  three  1 ” 

Half  twain  1 ” 

‘ Quarter  twain  ! ^ 


SHOALING  FAST. 


47 


Davis  pulled  a couple  of  ropes — there  was  a jingling  of 
«mall  bells  fiir  below,  the  boat’s  speed  slackened,  and  the  pent 
steam  began  to  whistle  and  the  gauge-cocks  to  scream: 
Jjj  the  mark  twain  ! ” 

‘‘  Quar  - ter  - her  - er  - less 
twain ! ” 

‘‘  Eight  and  2^  half ! ” 

Eight  feet ! ” 

Seven-ana-balf  ! ” 

Another  jingling  of  lit- 
tle bells  and  the  wdieels 
ceased  turning  altogether. 

The  whistling  of  the  steam 
was  something  frightful, 
now — ^it  almost  drowned 
all  other  noises. 

“ Stand  by  to  meet  her !” 

George  had  the  wheel 
hard  down  and  was  stand- 
ing on  a spoke. 

“ All  ready  ! ” 

The  boat  hesitated  — 


seemed  to  hold  her  breath,  as  did  the  captain  and  pilots — - 
and  then  she  began  to  fall  away  to  starboard  and  every  eye 
lighted : 

“ Now  then ! — meet  her ! meet  her ! Snatch  her  ! ” 

The  wheel  flew  to  port  so  fast  that  the  spokes  blended  into 
a spider-web — the  swing  of  the  boat  subsided — she  steadied 

herself 

“ Seven  feet ! ” 

“ Sev — six  and  a half ! ” 

“-67a?  feet ! Six  f ” 

Bang ! She  hit  the  bottom ! George  shouted  througli 
the  tube : 

“ Spread  her  wide  open  ! Whale  it  at  her  ! ” 

Pow — wow — chow!  The  escape-])ipes  belched  snowy 

pillars  of  steam  aloft,  the  boat  ground  and  surged  and  trem- 


48 


A FULL  HAND  BUT  THE  TRICK  LOST. 


bled — and  slid  over  into 

“ M-a-r-k  twain  ! ” 

“ Qnarter-A^T" ” 

‘‘  Tap  ! tap  ! tap  ! ” (to  signify  “ Lay  in  the  leads.”) 

And  away  she  went,  flying  up  the  willow  shore,  with  the 
whole  silver  sea  of  the  Mississippi  stretching  abroad  on  every 
hand. 

'No  Amaranth  in  sight ! 

Ha-ha,  boys,  we  took  a couple  of  tricks  that  time  ! ” said 
the  captain. 

And  just  at  that  moment  a red  glare  appeared  in  the  head 
of  the  chute  and  the  Amaranth  came  springing  after  them  1 

Well,  I swear  1 ” 

“ Jim,  what  is  the  meaning  of  that  ? ” 

“ I’ll  tell  you  what’s  the  meaning  of  it.  That  hail  we  had 
at  Hapoleon  was  Wash  Hastings,  wanting  to  come  to  Cairo 
- — and  we  didn’t  stop.  He’s  in  that  pilot  house,  now,  show- 
ing those  mud  turtles  how  to  hunt  for  easy  water.” 

That’s  it ! I thought  it  wasn’t  any  slouch  that  was  run- 
ning that  middle  bar  in  Hog-eye  Bend.  If  it’s  Wash 
Hastings — well,  what  he  don’t  know  about  the  river  ain’t 
worth  knowing — a regular  gold-leaf,  kid-glove,  diamond- 
breastpin  pilot  Wash  Hastings  is.  We  won’t  take  any  tricks 
off  of  Mm,  old  man  ! ” 

I wish  I’d  a stopped  for  him,  that’s  all.” 

The  Amaranth  was  within  three  hundred  yards  of  the 
Boreas,  and  still  gaining.  The  “ old  man  ” spoke  through 
the  tube : 

What  is  she  carrying  now  ? ” 

“ A hundred  and  sixty-five,  sir ! ” 

“ How’s  your  wood  ? ” 

“ Pine  all  out — cypress  half  gone — eating  up  cotton-wood 
like  pie ! ” 

“Break  into  that  rosin  on  the  main  deck — pile  it  in,  the 
boat  can  pay  for  it ! ” 

Soon  the  boat  was  plunging  and  quivering  and  screaming 


* ; of’  the 

rmBzn'i  Of-  ill!*;'"' 

/ 


<4 


'!  " 'i 


\ 


FAST  TOGETHER 


THE  EXPLOSIOi:^. 


49 


more  madly  than  ever.  Bnt  the  Amaranth’s  head  was  almost 
abreast  the  Boreas’s  stern  : 

How’s  your  steam,  now,  Harry  ? ” 

‘‘Hundred  and  eighty-two,  sir!” 

“ Break  up  the  casks  of  bacon  in  the  f orrard  hold ! Pile 
it  in  I Levy  on  that  turpentine  in  the  fantail — drench  every 
stick  of  wood  with  it  1 ” 

The  boat  was  a moving  earthquake  by  this  time : 

“ How  is  she  now  ? ” 

“ A hundred  and  ninety-six  and  still  a-swelling ! — water 
below  the  middle  gauge-cocks ! — carrying  every  pound  she 
can  stand  1 — nigger  roosting  on  the  safety-valve ! ” 

“ Good  1 How’s  your  draft  ? ” 

“ Bully  1 Every  time  a nigger  heaves  a stick  of  wood  into 
the  furnace  he  goes  out  the  chimney  with  it  1 ” 

The  Amaranth  drew  steadily  up  till  her  jack-staff  breasted 
the  Boreas’s  wheel-house — climbed  along  inch  by  inch  till  her 
chimneys  breasted  it — crept  along,  further  and  further  till 
the  boats  were  wheel  to  wheel — and  then  they  closed  up  with 
a lieavy  jolt  and  locked  together  tight  and  fast  in  the  middle 
of  the  big  river  under  the  flooding  moonlight ! A roar  and 
a hurrah  went  up  from  the  crowded  decks  of  both  steamers 
— all  hands  rushed  to  the  guards  to  look  and  shout  and  ges- 
ticulate— the  weight  careened  the  vessels  over  toward  each 
other — offlcers  flew  hither  and  thither  cursing  and  storming, 
trying  to  drive  the  people  amidships — ^both  captains  were 
leaning  over  their  railings  shaking  their  flsts,  swearing  and 
threatening — black  volumes  of  smoke  rolled  up  and  canopied 
the  scene,  delivering  a rain  of  sparks  upon  the  vessels — two 
pistol  shots  rang  out,  and  both  captains  dodged  imhurt  and 
the  packed  masses  of  passengers  surged  back  and  fell  apart 
wliile  the  shrieks  of  women  and  children  soared  above  the 
intolerable  din 

And  then  there  was  a booming  roar,  a thundering  crash, 
and  the  riddled  Amaranth  dropped  loose  from  her  hold  and 
drifted  helplessly  away  1 

Instantly  the  fire-doors  of  the  Boreas  were  thrown  open 


50 


THE  BUENING  STEAMER. 


and  the  men  began  dashing  buckets  of  water  into  the  fur- 
naces— ^for  it  would  have  been  death  and  destruction  to  stop 
the  engines  with  such  a head  of  steam  on. 

As  soon  as  possible  the  Boreas  dropped  down  to  the  float- 
ing wreck  and  took  off  the  dead,  the  wounded  and  the  unhurt — 
at  least  all  that  could  be  got  at,  for  the  whole  forward  half 
of  the  boat  was  a shapeless  ruin,  with  the  great  chimneys 
lying  crossed  on  top  of  it,  and  underneath  were  a dozen  vic- 
tims imprisoned  alive  and  wailing  for  help.  While  men  with 
axes  worked  with  might  and  main  to  free  these  poor  fellows, 
the  Boreas’s  boats  went  about,  picking  up  stragglers  from  the 
river. 

And  now  a new  horror  presented  itself.  The  wreck  took 
fire  from  the  dismantled  furnaces!  Never  did  men  work 
with  a heartier  will  than  did  those  stalwart  braves  with  the 
axes.  But  it  was  of  no  use.  The  fire  ate  its  way  steadily, 
despising  the  bucket  brigade  that  fought  it.  It  scorched  the 
clothes,  it  singed  the  hair  of  the  axemen — it  drove  them 
back,  foot  by  foot — inch  by  inch — they  wavered,  struck  a 
final  blow  in  the  teeth  of  the  enemy,  and  surrendered.  And 
as  they  fell  back  they  heard  prisoned  voices  saying: 

“ Don’t  leave  us  1 Don’t  desert  us  1 Don’t,  don’t  do  it  I ” 

And  one  poor  fellow  said ; 

“ I am  Henry  W orley,  striker  of  the  Amaranth ! My 
mother  lives  in  St.  Louis.  Tell  her  a lie  for  a poor  devil’s 
sake,  please.  Say  I was  killed  in  an  instant  and  never  knew 
what  hurt  me — though  God  knows  I’ve  neither  scratch  nor 
bruise  this  moment  1 It’s  hard  to  burn  up  in  a coop  like  this 
with  the  whole  wide  world  so  near.  Good-bye  boys — we’ve 
all  got  to  come  to  it  at  last,  anyway  1 ” 

The  Boreas  stood  away  out  of  danger,  and  the  ruined 
steamer  y'ent  drifting  down  the  stream  an  island  of  wreath- 
ing and  climbing  flame  that  vomited  clouds  of  smoke  from 
time  to  time,  and  glared  more  fiercely  and  sent  its  luminous 
tongues  higher  and  higher  after  each  emission.  A shriek  at 
intervals  told  of  a captive  that  had  met  his  doom.  The 
vrreck  lodged  upon  a sandbar,  and  when  the  Boreas  turned 


KESULTS  OF  THE  KACE. 


51 


tlie  next  point  on  her  upward  journey  it  was  still  burning  with 
scarcely  abated  fury. 

When  the  boys  came  down  into  the  main  saloon  of  the 
Boreas,  they  saw  a pitiful  sight  and  heard  a world  of  pitiful 
sounds.  Eleven  poor  creatures  lay  dead  and  forty  more  lay 


ONE  OF  THE  VICTIMS. 


moaning,  or  pleading  or  screaming,  while  a score  of  Good 
Samaritans  moved  among  them  doing  what  they  could  to  re- 
lieve their  sufferings ; bathing  their  skinless  faces  and  bodies 
with  linseed  oil  and  lime  water  and  covering  the  places  with 
bulging  masses  of  raw  cotton  that  gave  to  every  face  and 
form  a dreadful  and  unhuman  aspect. 

A little  wee  French  midshipman  of  fourteen  lay  fearfully 
injured,  but  never  uttered  a sound  till  a physician  of  Mem- 
phis was  about  to  dress  his  hurts.  Then  he  said : 

“ Can  I get  well  ? You  need  not  be  afraid  to  tell  me.” 

“h^o — I — I am  afraid  you  can  not.” 

“ Then  do  not  waste  your  time  with  me — help  those  that 
can  get  well.” 

«But ” 

“ Help  those  that  can  get  well ! It  is  not  for  me  to  be  a 
girl.  I carry  the  blood  of  eleven  generations  of  soldiers  in 
my  veins ! ” 

The  physician — ^liimself  a man  who  had  seen  service  in  the 


uMivtssn'f  Of 

U.  Of  ILL  UB.  „Lmais  usmy 


52 


NOBODY  TO  BLAME. 


navy  in  liis  time — toiiclied  liis  liat  to  tliis  little  liero,  and 
passed  on. 

The  head  engineer  of  the  Amaranth,  a grand  specimen  of 
physical  manhood,  struggled  to  his  feet  a ghastly  spectacle 
and  strode  toward  his  brother,  tlie  second  engineer,  who  was 
unhurt.  He  said : 

You  were  on  watch.  You  w^ere  boss.  You  would  not 
listen  to  me  when  I begged  you  to  reduce  your  steam.  Take 
that ! — take  it  to  my  wife  and  tell  her  it  comes  from  me  by 
the  hand  of  my  murderer!  Take  it — and  take  my  curse 
with  it  to  blister  your  heart  a hundred  years — and  may  you 
live  so  long  ! ’’ 

And  he  tore  a ring  from  his  finger,  stripping  fiesh  and 
skin  with  it,  threw  it  down  and  fell  dead  1 

But  these  things  must  not  be  dwelt  upon.  The  Boreas 
landed  her  dreadful  cargo  at  the  next  large  town  and  deliv- 
ered it  over  to  a multitude  of  eager  hands  and  warm  southern 
hearts — a cargo  amounting  by  this  time  to  39  wounded 
persons  and  22  dead  bodies.  And  with  these  she  delivered  a 
list  of  96  missing  persons  that  had  drowned  or  otherwise- 
perished  at  the  scene  of  the  disaster. 

A jury  of  inquest  was  impaneled,  and  after  due  deliber- 
ation and  inquiry  they  returned  the  inevitable  American  ver- 
dict which  has  been  so  familiar  to  our  ears  all  the  days  of 
our  lives — “ Hobody  to  blame.”  * 


*The  incidents  of  the  explosion  are  not  invented.  They  happened  just  'dfl 
they  are  told. — Tsu  Auihobs. 


CHAPTER  V. 


II  veut  faire  s^cher  de  la  neige  au  four  et  la  vendre  pour  du  sel  blanc. 


HEN  the  Boreas  backed  away  from  the  land  to  con- 


T T tinue  her  voyage  up  the  river,  the  Hawkinses  were 
richer  by  twenty-four  hours  of  experience  in  the  contempla- 
tion of  human  suffering  and  in  learning  through  honest  hard 
work  how  to  relieve  it.  And  they  were  richer  in  another 
Wfay  also.  In  the  early  turmoil  an  hour  after  the  explosion, 
little  black-eyed  girl  of  five  years,  frightened  and  crying 
bitterly,  was  struggling  through  the  throng  in  the  Boreas’ 
isaloon  calling  her  mother  and  father,  but  no  one  answered. 
— Something  in  the  face  of  Mr.  Hawkins  attracted  her  and 
ishe  came  and  looked  up  at  him;  was  satisfied,  and  took 
refuge  with  him.  He  petted  her,  listened  to  her  troubles, 
.and  said  he  would  find  her  friends  for  her.  Then  he  put 
her  in  a state-room  with  his  children  and  told  them  to  be  kind 
to  her  (the  adults  of  his  party  were  all  busy  with  the  wound- 
ed) and  straightway  began  his  search. 

It  was  fruitless.  But  all  day  he  and  his  wife  made  inquir- 
ies, and  hoped  against  hope.  All  that  they  could  learn  was 
that  the  child  and  her  parents  came  on  board  at  New  Orleans, 
where  they  had  just  arrived  in  a vessel  from  Cuba;  that 
'they  looked  like  people  from  the  Atlantic  States ; that  the 
family  name  was  Yan  Brunt  and  the  child’s  name  Laura. 
This  was  all.  The  parents  had  not  been  seen  since  the 
explosion.  The  child’s  manners  were  those  of  a little  lady, 
and  her  clothes  were  daintier  and  finer  than  any  Mrs.  Hawkins 
had  ever  seen  before. 

As  the  hours  dragged  on  the  child  lost  heart,  and  cried  so 


53 


54 


LITTLE  LAURA. 


piteously  for  her  mother  that  it  seemed  to  the  Hawkinses- 
that  the  meanings  and  the  wailings  of  the  mutilated  men  and 
women  in  the  saloon  did  not  so  strain  at  their  heart-strings 
as  the  sufferings  of  this  little  desolate  creature.  They  tried 
hard  to  comfort  her ; and  in  trying,  learned  to  love  her ; they 
could  not  help  it,  seeing  how  she  clung  to  them  and  put  her 
arms  about  their  necks  and  found  no  solace  but  in  their  kind 
eyes  and  comforting  words.  There  was  a question  in  both 
their  hearts — a question  that  rose  up  and  asserted  itself  witK 
more  and  more  pertinacity  as  the  hours  w^ore  on — but  both 
hesitated  to  give  it  voice — both  kept  silence  and  waited^ 
But  a time  came  at  last  when  the  matter  would  bear  delay 
no  longer.  The  boat  had  landed,  and  the  dead  and  the  wound- 
ed were  being  conveyed  to  the  shore.  The  tired  child  was 
asleep  in  the  arms  of  Mrs.  Hawdvins.  Mr.  Hawkins  earner 
into  their  presence  and  stood  wdthout  speaking.  His  eyes  met 
his  wife’s;  then  both  looked  at  the  child — and  as  they  looked 
it  stirred  in  its  sleep  and  nestled  closer;  an  expression  of 
contentment  and  peace  settled  upon  its  face  that  touched  the 
mother-heart ; and  when  the  eyes  of  husband  and  wife  met 
again,  the  question  was  asked  and  answered. 

"When  the  Boreas  had  journeyed  some  four  hundred  miles, 
from  the  time  the  Hawkinses  joined  her,  a long  rank  of 
steamboats  w^as  sighted,  packed  side  by  side  at  a wdiarf  like 
sardines  in  a box,  and  above  and  beyond  them  rose  the  domes 
and  steeples  and  general  architectural  confusion  of  a city — a 
city  with  an  imposing  umbr<,"^a  of  black  smoke  spread  over 
it.  This  was  St.  Louis.  Th^y,  hildren  of  the  Hawkins  fam- 
ily vrere  playing  about  the  hu.q^cane  deck,  and  the  father  and 
mother  were  sitting  in  the  lee  of  the  pilot  house  essaying 
to  keep  order  and  not  greatly  grieved  that  they  were  not 
succeeding. 

‘^They’re  worth  all  the  trouble  they  are,  Nancy.” 

“Yes,  and  more.  Si.” 

“ I believe  you  ! You  wouldn’t  sell  one  of  them  at  a good 
round  figure  ? ” 

“Not  for  all  the  money  in  the  bank.  Si.” 

“My  own  sentiments  every  time.  It  is  true  we  are  not 


A LOOK  AHEAD. 


55 


rich — but  still  you  are  not  sorry — you  haven’t  any  misgivings 
about  the  additions  ? ” 

No.  God  will  provide.” 

“ Amen.  And  so  you  wouldn’t  even  part  with  Clay  ? Or 
Laura ! ” 

^‘Not  for  anything  in  the  world.  I love  them  just  the 
same  as  I love  my  own.  They  pet  me  and  spoil  me  even 
more  than  the  others  do,  I think.  I reckon  we’ll  get  along, 
Si.” 

Oh  yes,  it  will  all  come  out  right,  old  mother.  I wouldn’t 
be  afraid  to  adopt  a thousand  children  if  I wanted  to,  for 
there’s  that  Tennessee  Land,  you  know — enough  to  make  an 
army  of  them  rich.  A whole  army,  Nancy!  You  and  I 
will  never  see  the  day,  but  these  little  chaps  will.  Indeed 
they  will.  One  of  these  days  it  will  be  ‘ the  rich  Miss  Emily 
Hawkins — and  the  wealthy  Miss  Laura  Yan  Brunt  Hawkins 
— and  the  Hon.  George  Washington  Hawkins,  millionaire — 
and  Gov.  Henry  Clay  Hawkins,  millionaire  1 ’ That  is  the 
way  the  world  will  word  it ! Don’t  let’s  ever  fret  about  the 
children,  Nancy — never  in  the  world.  They’re  all  right. 
Nancy,  there’s  oceans  and  oceans  of  money  in  that  land — 
mark  my  words  1 ” 

The  children  had  stopped  playing,  for  the  moment,  and 
drawn  near  to  listen.  Hawkins  said  : 

“Washington,  my  boy,  what  will  you  do  when  you  get  to 
be  one  of  the  richest  men  in  the  world  ? ” 

“ I don’t  know,  father.  betimes  I think  I’ll  have  a 
balloon  and  go  up  in  the  aij  ? and  sometimes  I think  I’ll 
have  ever  so  many  books  ; ai^r  sometimes  I think  I’ll  have 
ever  so  many  weather-cocks  and  water-wheels;  or  have  a 
machine  like  that  one  you  and  Colonel  Sellers  bought ; and 
sometimes  I think  I’ll  have — well,  somehow  I don’t  know — 
somehow  I ain’t  certain  ; maybe  I’ll  get  a steamboat  first.” 

“ The  same  old  chap  ! — always  just  a little  bit  divided 
about  things. — And  what  will  ^ou  do  when  you  get  to  be 
one  of  the  richest  men  in  the  world.  Clay  ? ” 

“ I don’t  know,  sir.  My  mother — my  other  mother  that’s 


56 


THE  NEW  HOME. 


gone  away — she  always  told  me  to  work  along  and  not  he 
much  expecting  to  get  rich,  and  then  I wouldn’t  be  disap- 
pointed if  I didn’t  get  rich.  And  so  I reckon  it’s  better  for 
me  to  wait  till  I get  rich,  and  then  by  that  time  maybe  I’ll 
know  what  I’ll  want — but  I don’t  now,  sir.” 

‘‘  Careful  old  head  ! — Governor  Henry  Clay  Hawkins ! — • 
that’s  what  you’ll  be.  Clay,  one  of  these  days.  Wise  old 
head  ! weighty  old  head  ! Go  on,  now,  and  play — all  of  you. 
It’s  a prime  lot,  Haney,  as  the  Obedstown  folk  say  about 
their  hogs.” 

A smaller  steamboat  received  the  Hawkinses  and  their  for- 
tunes, and  bore  them  a hundred  and  thirty  miles  still  higher 
up  the  Mississippi,  and  landed  them  at  a little  tumble-down 
village  on  the  Missouri  shore  in  the  twilight  of  a mellow 
October  day. 

The  next  morning  they  harnessed  up  their  team  and  for 
two  days  they  wended  slowly  into  the  interior  through  almost 
roadless  and  uninhabited  forest  solitudes.  And  when  for  the 
last  time  they  pitched  their  tents,  metaphorically  speaking, 
it  was  at  the  goal  of  their  hopes,  their  new  home. 

By  the  muddy  roadside  stood  a new  log  cabin,  one  story 
high — the  store  ; clustered  in  the  neighborhood  were  ten  or 
twelve  more  cabins,  some  new,  some  old. 

In  the  sad  light  of  the  departing  day  the  place  looked 
homeless  enough.  Two  or  three  coatless  young  men  sat  in 
front  of  the  store  on  a dry -goods  box,  and  whittled  it  with 
their  knives,  kicked  it  with  their  vast  boots,  and  shot  tobacco- 
juice  at  various  marks.  Several  ragged  negroes  leaned  com- 
fortably against  the  posts  of  the  awning  and  contemplated 
the  arrival  of  the  wayfarers  with  lazy  curiosity.  All  these 
people  presently  managed  to  drag  themselves  to  the  vicinity 
of  the  Hawkins’  wagon,  and  there  they  took  up  permanent 
positions,  hands  in  pockets  and  resting  on  one  leg ; and  thus 
anchored  they  proceeded  to  look  and  enjoy.  Yagrant  dogs 
came  wagging  around  and  making  inquiries  of  Hawkins’s 
dog,  which  were  not  satisfactory  and  they  made  war  on  him 
in  concert.  This  would  have  interested  the  citizens  but  it 


COL.  SELLERS’  RECEPTION. 


57 


•was  too  many  on  one  to  amount  to  anything  as  a fight,  and 
•so  they  commanded  the  peace  and  the  foreign  dog  furled  his 
tail  and  took  sanctuary  under  the  wagon.  Slatternly  negro 
girls  and  women  slouched  along  with  pails  deftly  balanced 
on  their  heads,  and  joined  the  group  and  stared.  Little  half 
dressed  white  boys,  and  little  negro  boys  with  nothing  what- 
■ever  on  but  tow-lineii  shirts  with  a fine  southern  exposure, 
came  from  various  directions  and  stood  with  their  hands 
locked  together  behind  them  and  aided  in  the  inspection. 
The  rest  of  the  population  were  laying  down  their  employ- 
•ments  and  getting  ready  to  come,  when  a man  burst  through 
the  assemblage  and  seized  the  new-comers  by  the  hands  in  a 
frenzy  of  welcome,  and  exclaimed — indeed  almost  shouted : 

“Well  who  have  believed  it ! Now  is  it  you  sure 

enough — turn  around  ! hold  up  your  heads  ! I w^ant  to  look 
at  you  good  ! W ell,  well,  well,  it  does  seem  most  too  good 
to  be  true,  I declare  ! Lord,  I’m  so  glad  to  see  you  ! Does 
a body’s  whole  soul  good  to  look  at  you ! Shake  hands 
again ! Keep  on  shaking  hands  ! Goodness  gracious  alive. 
What  will  my  wife  say  ? — Oh  yes  indeed,  it’s  so  ! — married 
only  last  week — lovely,  perfectly  lovely  creature,  the  noblest 
woman  that  ever — you’ll  like  her,  Nancy  ! Like  her  % Lord 
.bless  me  you’ll  love  her — you’ll  dote  on  her — you’ll  be 
twins!  Well,  well,  well,  let  me  look  at  you  again  ! Same 
^old — why  bless  my  life  it  was  only  just  this  very  morning 
that  my  wife  saj^s,  ‘ Colonel’ — she  will  call  me  Colonel  spite 
of  everything  I can  do — she  says  ‘ Colonel,  something  tells 
me  somebody’s  coming  1 ’ and  sure  enough  here  you  are,  the 
last  people  on  earth  a body  could  have  expected.  Why  she’ll 
think  she’s  a prophetess — and  hanged  if  I don’t  think  so 
too — and  you  know  there  ain’t  any  country  but  what  a 
prophet’s  an  honor  to,  as  the  proverb  says.  Lord  bless  me — 
and  here’s  the  children,  too  ! Washington,  Emily,  don’t  you 
know  me  ? Come,  give  us  a kiss.  Won’t  I fix  you^  though ! 
— ponies,  cows,  dogs,  everything  you  can  think  of  that’ll 

delight  a child’s  heart — and . Why  how’s  this  ? Little 

•strangers?  Well  you  won’t  be  any  strangers  here,  I can  tell 


58 


MADE  COMFORTABLE. 


you.  Bless  your  souls  we’ll  make  you  think  you  never  was 
at  home  before — ’deed  and  ’deed  we  will,  1 can  tell  you  I 
Come,  now,  bundle  right  along  with  me.  You  can’t  glorify 
any  hearth  stone  hut  mine  in  this  camp,  you  know — can’t  eat 
anybody’s  bread  but  mine — can’t  do  anything  but  just  make 
yourselves  perfectly  at  home  and  comfortable,  and  spread 
yourselves  out  and  rest ! You  hear  me  ! Here — Jim,  Tom,, 
Pete,  Jake,  fly  around  ! Take  that  team  to  my  place — put 
the  wagon  in  my  lot — put  the  horses  under  the  shed,  and  get 
out  hay  and  oats  and  All  them  up ! Ain’t  any  hay  and  oats  ?' 
Well  get  some — have  it  charged  to  me — come,  spin  around,, 
now  ! How,  Hawkins,  the  procession’s  ready ; mark  time,, 
by  the  left  flank,  yhrward — march  ! ” 

And  the  Colonel  took  the  lead,  with  Laura  astride  his. 
neck,  and  the  newly-inspired  and  very  grateful  immigrants 


THE  PROCESSION FORWARD,  MARCH  ! 


picked  up  their  tired  limbs  wdth  quite  a spring  in  them  and 
dropped  into  his  wake. 

Presently  they  were  ranged  about  an  old-time  fire-place- 
whose  blazing  logs  sent  out  rather  an  unnecessary  amount  of 
heat,  but  that  was  no  matter — supper  was  needed,  and  to  have 
it,  it  had  to  be  cooked.  This  apartment  was  the  family  bed- 


AT  COL.  SELLERS’  HOUSE. 


59 


room,  parlor,  library  and  kitchen,  all  in  one.  The  matronly 
little  wife  of  the  Colonel  moved  hither  and  thither  and  im 


COL.  sellers’  little  wife. 

and  ont  with  her  pots  and  pans  in  her  hands,  happiness  m 
her  heart  and  a world  of  admiration  of  her  husband  in  her 
eyes.  And  when  at  last  she  had  spread  the  cloth  and  loaded 
it  with  hot  corn  bread,  fried  chickens,  bacon,  buttermilk^ 
coffee,  and  all  manner  of  country  luxuries.  Col.  Sellers  modi- 
fied his  harangue  and  for  a moment  throttled  it  down  to  the 
orthodox  pitch  for  a blessing,  and  then  instantly  burst  forth, 
again  as  from  a parenthesis  and  clattered  on  wdth  might  and 
main  till  every  stomach  in  the  party  was  laden  wdth  all  it 
could  carry.  And  when  the  new-comers  ascended  the  ladder 
to  their  comfortable  feather  beds  on  the  second  floor — to  wit,, 
tlie  garret — Mrs.  Hawkins  was  obliged  to  say  : 

Hang  the  fellow,  I do  believe  he  has  gone  wilder  than, 
ever,  but  still  a body  can’t  help  liking  him  if  they  would — 
and  what  is  more,  they  don’t  ever  want  to  try  when  they  se© 
his  eyes  and  hear  him  talk.” 

Within  a week  or  two  the  Hawkinses  were  comfortably 
domiciled  in  a new  log  house,  and  were  beginning  to  feel  at 
home.  The  children  were  put  to  school;  at  least  it  was 


'60 


A LIGHTNING  ROD  AND  STORE  CARPETS. 


what  passed  for  a school  in  those  days : a place  where  tender  j 
young  humanity  devoted  itself  for  eight  or  ten  hours  a day 
to  learning  incomprehensible  rubbish  by  heart  out  of  books 
and  reciting  it  by  rote,  like  parrots ; so  that  a finished  educa- 
tion consisted  simply  of  a permanent  headache  and  the  abil- 
ity to  read  without  stopping  to  spell  the  words  or  take  breath. 
Hawkins  bought  out  the  village  store  for  a song  and  proceeded  ' 
to  reap  the  profits,  which  amounted  to  but  little  more  than 
another  song. 

The  wonderful  speculation  hinted  at  by  Col.  Sellers  in  his 
letter  turned  out  to  be  the  raising  of  mules  for  the  Southern 
market ; and  really  it  promised  very  well.  The  young  stock 
•-eost  but  a trifie,  the  rearing  but  another  trifie,  and  so  Haw- 
kins was  easily  persuaded  to  embark  his  slender  means  in  the 
enterprise  and  turn  over  the  keep  and  care  of  the  animals  to 
Sellers  and  Uncle  Dan’l. 

All  went  well.  Business  prospered  little  by  little.  Haw- 
kins even  built  a new  house,  made  it  two  full  stories  high  and 
put  a lightning  rod  on  it.  People  came  two  or  three  miles 
to  look  at  it.  But  they  knew  that  the  rod  attracted  the 
lightning,  and  so  they  gave  the  place  a wide  berth  in  a storm, 
for  they  were  familiar  with  marksmanship  and  doubted  if 
the  lightning  could  hit  that  small  stick  at  a distance  of  a mile 
;and  a half  oftener  than  once  in  a hundred  and  fift}^  times. 
Hawkins  fitted  out  his  house  with  “ store  ” furniture  from 
St.  Louis,  and  the  fame  of  its  magnificence  went  abroad  in 
the  land.  Even  the  parlor  carpet  was  from  St.  Louis — though 
the  other  rooms  were  clothed  in  the  rag  ” carpeting  of  the 
country.  Hawkins  put  up  the  first  “paling”  fence  that  had 
ever  adorned  the  village;  and  he  did  not  stop  there,  but 
whitewashed  it.  His  oil-cloth  window-curtains  had  noble 
pictures  on  them  of  castles  such  as  had  never  been  seen  any- 
where in  the  world  but  on  window-curtains.  Hawkins 
enjoyed  the  admiration  these  prodigies  compelled,  but  he 
-always  smiled  to  think  how  jDoor  and  cheap  they  were,  com- 
pared to  what  the  Hawkins  mansion  would  display  in  a future 
day  after  the  Tennessee  Land  should  have  borne  its  minted 
fruit.  Even  Washington  observed,  once,  that  when  the 


THE  SECRETS  OF  SUCCESSFUL  SPECULATION. 


61 


Tennessee  Land  was  sold  lie  would  have  a store”  carpet  irt 
his  and  Clay’s  room  like  the  one  in  the  parlor.  This  pleased 
Hawkins,  but  it  troubled  his  wife.  It  did  not  seem  wise,  to 
her,  to  put  one’s  entire  earthly  trust  in  the  Tennessee  Land 
and  never  think  of  doing  any  work. 

Hawkins  took  a weekly  Philadelphia  newspaper  and  a- 
semi-weekly  St.  Louis  journal — almost  the  only  papers  that 
came  to  the  village,  though  Godey’s  Lady’s  Book  found  a 
good  market  there  and  was  regarded  as  the  perfection  of 
polite  literature  by  some  of  the  ablest  critics  in  the  place. 
Perhaps  it  is  only  fair  to  explain  that  we  are  writing  of  a by 
gone  age — some  twenty  or  thirty  years  ago.  In  the  two 
newspapers  referred  to  lay  the  secret  of  Hawkins’s  growing- 
prosperity.  They  kept  him  informed  of  the  condition  of  the 
crops  south  and  east,  and  thus  he  knew  which  articles  were 
likely  to  be  in  demand  and  which  articles  were  likely  to  be 
unsalable,  weeks  and  even  months  in  advance  of  the  simple 
folk  about  him.  As  the  months  went  by  he  came  to  be  re- 
garded as  a wonderfully  lucky  man.  It  did  not  occur  to  the 
citizens  that  brains  were  at  the  bottom  of  his  luck. 

His  title  of  “ Squire  ” came  into  vogue  again,  but  only  for 
a season ; for,  as  his  wealth  and  popularity  augmented,  that 
title,  by  imperceptible  stages,  grew  up  into  Judge  indeed 
it  bade  fair  to  swell  into  “ General  ” bye  and  bye.  All 
strangers  of  consequence  who  visited  the  village  gravitated 
to  the  Hawkins  Mansion  and  became  guests  of  the  “ Judge.” 

Hawkins  had  learned  to  like  the  people  of  his  section  very 
much.  They  were  uncouth  and  not  cultivated,  and  not  par- 
ticularly industrious ; but  they  were  honest  and  straight- 
j forward,  and  their  virtuous  ways  commanded  respect.  Their 
I patriotism  was  strong,  their  pride  in  the  flag  was  of  the  old- 
fashioned  pattern,  their  love  of  country  amounted  to  idolatry. 
Whoever  dragged  the  national  honor  in  the  dirt  won  their 
deathless  hatred.  They  still  cursed  Benedict  Arnold  as  if  he 
1 were  a personal  friend  who  had  broken  faith  but  a week 
V.  gone  by. 


CHAPTER  VL 


-f-  ^ lO  ♦ 


Mesu  eu  azhei&shet 
W ashkebem^tizitaking, 

Nawuj  beshegandaguz^ 

Manwabegonig  edusb  wen. 

WE  skip  ten  years  and  this  history  finds  certain  changes 
to  record. 

Judge  Hawkins  and  Col.  Sellers  have  made  and  lost  two 
or  three  moderate  fortunes  in  the  meantime  and  are  now 
pinched  by  poverty.  Sellers  has  two  pairs  of  twins  and  four 
extras.  In  Hawkins’s  family  are  six  children  of  his  own  and 
two  adopted  ones.  From  time  to  time,  as  fortune  smiled, 
the  elder  children  got  the  benefit  of  it,  spending  the  lucky 
seasons  at  excellent  schools  in  St.  Louis  and  the  unlucky  ones 
^t  home  in  the  chafing  discomfort  of  straightened  circum- 
stances. 

Neither  the  Hawkins  children  nor  the  world  that  knew 
them  ever  supposed  that  one  of  the  girls  was  of  alien  blood 
and  parentage.  Such  difierence  as  existed  between  Laura 
and  Emily  is  not  uncommon  in  a family.  The  girls  had 
grown  up  as  sisters,  and  they  were  both  too  young  at  the 
time  of  the  fearful  accident  on  the  Mississippi  to  know  that 
it  was  that  which  had  thrown  their  lives  together. 

And  yet  any  one  who  had  known  the  secret  of  Laura’s 
birth  and  had  seen  her  during  these  passing  years,  say  at  the 
happy  age  of  twelve  or  thirteen,  would  have  fancied  that  he 

62 


THE  YOUNG  BEAUTY. 


G3 


knew  tlie  reason  why  she  was  more  winsome  than  her  school 
companion. 

Philosophers  dispute  whether  it  is  the  promise  of  what  she 
will  be  in  the  careless  school-girl,  that  makes  her  attractive, 
the  undeveloped  maidenhood,  or  the  mere  natural,  careless 
sweetness  of  childhood.  If  Laura  at  twelve  was  beginning 
to  be  a beauty,  the  thought  of  it  had  never  entered  her  head. 
No,  indeed.  Her  mind  w^as  filled  with  more  important 
thoughts.  To  her  simple  school-girl  dress  she  was  beginning 
to  add  those  mysterious  little  adornments  of  ribbon-knots 
and  ear-rings,  which  were  the  subject  of  earnest  consultations 
with  her  grown  friends. 

When  she  tripped  down  the  street  on  a summer’s  day  with 
her  dainty  hands  propped  into  the  ribbon-broidered  pockets 


LAURA. 


of  her  apron,  and  elbows  consequently  more  or  less  akimbo 
with  her  wide  Leghorn  hat  flapping  down  and  hiding  her 
face  one  moment  and  blowing  straight  up  against  her  fore- 
head the  next  and  making  its  revealment  of  fresh  young 
beauty ; with  all  her  pretty  girlish  airs  and  graces  in  full 


64 


POVERTY  AND  TEMPTATIONS. 


play,  and  that  sweet  ignorance  of  care  and  that  atmosphere 
of  innocence  and  purity  all  about  her  that  belong  to  her 
gracious  time  of  life,  indeed  she  was  a vision  to  warm  the 
coldest  heart  and  bless  and  cheer  the  saddest. 

Willful,  generous,  forgiving,  imperious,  affectionate,  im- 
provident, bewitching,  in  short — was  Laura  at  this  period. 
Could  she  have  remained  there,  this  history  would  not  need 
to  be  written.  But  Laura  had  grown  to  be  almost  a woman 
in  these  few  years,  to  the  end  of  which  we  have  now  come — 
years  which  had  seen  Judge  Hawkins  pass  through  so  many 
trials. 

When  the  judge’s  first  bankruptcy  came  upon  him,  a 
homely  human  angel  intruded  upon  him  with  an  ofier  of 
$1,500  for  the  Tennessee  Land.  Mrs.  Hawkins  said  take  it. 
It  was  a grievous  temptation,  but  the  judge  withstood  it. 
He  said  the  land  was  for  the  children — he  could  not  rob  them 
of  their  future  millions  for  so  paltry  a sum.  When  the 
second  blight  fell  upon  him,  another  angel  appeared  and 
offered  $3,000  for  the  land.  He  was  in  such  deep  distress 
that  he  allowed  his  wife  to  persuade  him  to  let  the  papers  be 
drawn  ; but  when  his  children  came  into  his  presence  in  their 
poor  apparel,  he  felt  like  a traitor  and  refused  to  sign. 

But  now  he  was  down  again,  and  deeper  in  the  mire  than 
ever.  He  paced  the  floor  all  day,  he  scarcely  slept  at  night. 
He  blushed  even  to  acknowledge  it  to  himself,  but  treason 
was  in  his  mind — he  was  meditating,  at  last,  the  sale  of  the 
land.  Mrs.  Hawkins  stepped  into  the  room.  He  had  not 
spoken  a word,  but  he  felt  as  guilty  as  if  she  had  caught  him 
in  some  shameful  act.  She  said  : 

Si,  I do  not  know  what  we  are  going  to  do.  The  chil- 
dren are  not  fit  to  be  seen,  their  clothes  are  in  such  a state. 
But  there’s  something  more  serious  still. — There  is  scarcely 
a bite  in  the  house  to  eat.” 

“ Why,  Haney,  go  to  Johnson .” 

“Johnson  indeed!  You  took  that  man’s  part  when  he 
hadn’t  a friend  in  the  world,  and  you  built  him  up  and  made 
him  rich.  And  here’s  the  result  of  it : He  lives  in  our  fine 


TROUBLE  AND  DARKNESS. 


65 


house,  and  we  live  in  his  miserable  log  cabin.  He  has  hinted 
to  our  children  that  he  would  rather  they  wouldn’t  come 
about  his  yard  to  play  with  his  children, — which  I can  bear, 
and  bear  easy  eiioiigli,  for  they’re  not  a sort  we  want  to  asso- 
ciate with  much — but  what  I canH  bear  with  any  quietness 
at  all,  is  his  telling  Franky  our  bill  was  running  pretty  high 
this  morning  when  I sent  him  for  some  meal — and  that  was 
all  he  said,  too — didn’t  give  him  the  meal — turned  off  and 
went  to  talking  with  the  Hargrave  girls  about  some  stuff  they 
wanted  to  cheapen.” 

“ Nancy,  this  is  astounding  ! ” 

‘‘And  so  it  is,  I warrant  you.  I’ve  kept  still.  Si,  as  long 
as  ever  I could.  Things  have  been  getting  worse  and  worse, 
and  worse  and  worse,  every  single  day ; I don’t  go  out  of 
the  house,  I feel  so  down ; but  you  had  trouble  enough,  and 
I wouldn’t  say  a word — and  1 wouldn’t  say  a word  now,  only 
things  have  got  so  bad  that  I don’t  know  what  to  do,  nor 
where  to  turn.”  And  she  gave  way  and  put  her  face  in  her 
hands  and  cried. 

“Poor  child,  don’t  grieve  so.  I never  thought  that  of 
Johnson.  I am  clear  at  my  wit’s  end.  I don’t  know  what 


READY  TC  "SELL. 


in  the  world  to  do.  Now  if  somebody  would  come  along 
and  offer  $3,000 — Oh,  if  somebody  only  would  come  along 


NOT  YET  OVERCOME. 


and  offer  $3,000  for  that  Tennessee  Land ” 

“You’d  sell  it,  Si?”  said  Mrs.  Hawkins  excitedly. 

“ Try  me  ! ” 

Mrs.  Hawkins  was  out  of  tlie  room  in  a moment.  Within 
a minute  she  was  back  again  with  a business-looking  stranger, 
whom  she  seated,  and  then  she  took  her  leave  again.  Haw- 
kins said  to  himself,  “ How  can  a man  ever  lose  faith  ? 
When  the  blackest  hour  comes.  Providence  always  comes 
with  it — ah,  this  is  the  very  timeliest  help  that  ever  poor 
harried  devil  had  ; if  this  blessed  man  offers  but  a thousand 
I’ll  embrace  him  like  a brother ! ” 

The  stranger  said : 

“ I am  aware  that  you  own  15,000  acres  of  land  in  East 
Tennessee,  and  without  sacrificing  your  time,  I will  come  to 
the  point  at  once.  I am  agent  of  an  iron  manufacturing 
company,  and  they  empower  me  to  offer  you  ten  thousand 
dollars  for  that  land.” 

Hawkins’s  heart  bounded  within  him.  His  whole  frame 
was  racked  and  wrenched  with  fettered  hurrahs.  His  first 
impulse  was  to  shout — “ Done  ! and  God  bless  the  iron  com- 
pany, too ! ” 

But  a something  flitted  through  his  mind,  and  his  opened 
lips  uttered  nothing.  The  enthusiasm  faded  away  from  his 
eyes,  and  the  look  of  a man  who  is  thinking  took  its  place. 
Presently,  in  a hesitating,  undecided  way,  he  said : 

“Well,  I — it  don’t  seem  quite  enough.  That — that  is  a 
very  valuable  property — very  valuable.  It’s  brim  full  of  iron 
ore,  sir — brim  full  of  it!  And  copper,  coal, — everything — 
everything  you  can  think  of ! How,  I’ll  tell  you  what  I’ll 
do.  I’ll  reserve  everything  except  the  iron,  and  I’ll  sell 
them  the  iron  property  for  $15,000  cash,  I to  go  in  with 
them  and  own  an  undivided  interest  of  one-half  the  concern, 

■ — or  the  stock,  as  you  may  say.  I’m  out  of  business,  and 
I’d  just  as  soon  help  run  the  thing  as  not.  How  how  does 
that  strike  you  ? ” 

“ W ell,  I am  only  an  agent  of  these  people,  who  are  friends 


NEARLY  CAUGHT. 


67 


of  mine,  and  I am  not  even  paid  for  my  services.  To  tell 
you  the  truth,  I have  tried  to  persuade  them  not  to  go  into 
the  thing;  and  I have  come  square  out  with  their  offer, 
without  throwing  out  any  feelers — and  I did  it  in  the  hope 
that  you  would  refuse.  A man  pretty  much  always  refuses 
another  man’s  first  offer,  no  matter  what  it  is.  But  I have 
performed  my  duty,  and  will  take  pleasure  in  telling  them 
what  you  say.” 

He  was  about  to  rise.  Hawkins  said, 

‘^Wait  a hit.” 

Hawkins  thought  again.  And  the  substance  of  his  thought 
was:  ‘^This  is  a deep  man;  this  is  a very  deep  man ; I don’t 
like  his  candor;  your  ostentatiously  candid  business  man’s  a 
deep  fox — always  a deep  fox ; this  man’s  that  iron  company 
himself — that’s  what  he  is ; he  wants  that  property,  too  ; I 
am  not  so  blind  but  I can  see  that ; he  don’t  want  the  com- 
pany to  go  into  this  thing — O,  that’s  very  good ; yes,  that’s 
very  good  indeed — stuff!  he’ll  be  back  here  to-morrow,  sure, 
and  take  my  offer ; take  it  ? I’ll  risk  anything  he  is  suffering 
to  take  it  now ; here — I must  mind  what  I’m  about.  What 
has  started  this  sudden  excitement  about  iron  ? I wonder 
what  'is  in  the  wind  ? just  as  sure  as  I’m  alive  this  moment, 
there’s  something  tremendous  stirring  in  iron  speculation  ” 
[here  Hawkins  got  up  and  began  to  pace  the  floor  with  ex- 
cited eyes  and  with  gesturing  hands] — something  enormous 
going  on  in  iron,  without  the  shadow  of  a doubt,  and  here  I 
sit  mousing  in  the  dark  and  never  knowing  anything  about 
it ; great  heaven,  what  an  escape  I’ve  made  I this  underhanded 
mercenary  creature  might  have  taken  me  up — and  ruined  me ! 
but  I have  escaped,  and  I warrant  me  I’ll  not  put  my  foot 
into — 

He  stopped  and  turned  toward  the  stranger,  saying : 

I have  made  you  a proposition, — joii  have  not  accepted 
it,  and  I desire  that  you  will  consider  that  I have  made  none. 
At  the  same  time  my  conscience  will  not  allow  me  to — . 
Please  alter  the  figures  I named  to  thirty  thousand  dollars,  if 


68 


THE  JUDGE  HIMSELF  AGAIN. 


you  will,  and  let  tlie  proposition  go  to  tlie  company — I will 
stick  to  it  if  it  breaks  my  heart ! ” 

The  stranger  looked  amused,  and  there  was  a pretty  well 


STOCK  RISING. 


defined  touch  of  surprise  in  his  expression,  too,  but  Hawkins 
never  noticed  it.  Indeed  he  scarcely  noticed  anything  or 
knew  what  he  was  about.  The  man  left ; Hawkins  flung 
himself  into  a chair ; thought  a few  moments,  then  glanced 
around,  looked  frightened,  sprang  to  the  door 

‘‘Too  late — too  late!  He’s  gone!  Fool  that  I am  !— 
always  a fool ! Thirty  thousand — ass  that  I am  ! Oh,  why 
didn’t  I say  fifty  thousand  ! ” 

He  plunged  his  hands  into  his  hair  and  leaned  his  elbows 
on  his  knees,  and  fell  to  rocking  himself  back  and  forth  in 
anguish.  Mrs.  Hawkins  sprang  in,  beaming : 

“Well,  Si?” 

“Oh,  con-found  the  con-founded — cow-found  it,  Haney. 
I’ve  gone  and  done  it,  now  ! ” 

“ Done  what,  Si,  for  mercy’s  sake  ! ” 


TEN  THOUSAND  DOLLARS  SENT  A BEGGING. 


69 


Done  everything  ! liuined  everything ! ” 

Tell  me,  tell  me, me!  Don’t  keep  a body  in  such 
suspense.  Didn’t  he  buy,  after  all?  Didn’t  he  make  an 
offer  ? ” 

“Offer?  He  offered  $10,000  for  our  land,  and ” 

“Thank  the  good  providence  from  the  very  bottom  of  my 
heart  of  hearts  1 What  sort  of  ruin  do  you  call  that.  Si  1 ” 

“ Haney,  do  you  suppose  I listened  to  such  a preposterous 
proposition  ? Ho  1 Thank  fortune  I’m  not  a simpleton  1 I 
saw  through  the  pretty  scheme  in  a second.  It’s  a vast  iron 
speculation ! — millions  upon  millions  in  it  1 But  fool  as  I 
am  I told  him  he  could  have  half  the  iron  property  for  thirty 
thousand — and  if  I only  had  him  back  here  he  couldn’t 
touch  it  for  a cent  less  than  a quarter  of  a million  I ” 

Mrs.  Hawkins  looked  up  white  and  despairing : 

“You  threw  away  this  chance,  you  let  this  man  go,  and 
we  in  this  awful  trouble?  You  don’t  mean  it,  you  canH 
mean  it  1 ” 

“ Throw  it  away  ? Catch  me  at  it  1 Why  woman,  do  you 
suppose  that  man  don’t  know  what  he  is  about  ? Bless  you, 
he’ll  be  back  fast  enough  to-morrow.” 

“Hever,  never,  never.  He  never  will  come  back.  I don’t 
know  what  is  to  become  of  us.  I don’t  know  what  in  the 
world  is  to  become  of  us.” 

A shade  of  uneasiness  came  into  Hawkins’s  face.  He 
said: 

“Why,  Haney,  you — you  can’t  believe  what  you  are 
saying.” 

“ Believe  it,  indeed  ? I hnow  it.  Si.  And  I know  that  we 
haven’t  a cent  in  the  world,  and  we’ve  sent  ten  thousand 
dollars  a-begging.” 

“Haney,  you  frighten  me.  How  could  that  man — is  it 
possible  that  I — hanged  if  I don’t  believe  I ham  missed  a 
chance  1 Don’t  grieve,  Haney,  don’t  grieve.  I’ll  go  right 
after  him.  I’ll  take — I’ll  take — what  a fool  I am ! — I’ll  take 
anything  he’ll  give  1 ” 

The  next  instant  he  left  the  house  on  a run.  But  the  man 


70 


A VIEW  OF  THE  SITUATION. 


was  no  longer  in  the  town.  Nobody  knew  where  he 
belonged  or  whither  he  had  gone.  Hawkins  came  slowly 
back,  watching  wistfully  but  hopelessly  for  the  stranger,  and 
lowering  his  price  steadily  with  his  sinking  heart.  And 
when  his  foot  finally  pressed  his  own  threshold,  the  value  he 
held  the  entire  Tennessee  property  at  was  five  hundred 
dollars — two  hundred  down  and  the  rest  in  three  equal  an- 
nual payments,  without  interest. 

There  was  a sad  gathering  at  the  Hawkins  fireside  the  next 
night.  All  the  children  were  present  but  Clay.  Mr.  Haw- 
kins said ! 

‘‘Washington,  we  seem  to  be  hopelessly  fallen,  hopelessly 
involved.  I am  ready  to  give  up.  1 do  not  know  where  to 
turn — I never  have  been  down  so  low  before,  I never  have 
seen  things  so  dismal.  There  are  many  mouths  to  feed  ; 
Clay  is  at  work ; w^e  must  lose  you,  also,  for  a little  while, 
my  boy.  But  it  will  not  be  long — the  Tennessee  land 

He  stopped,  and  was  conscious  of  a blush.  There  was 
silence  for  a moment,  and  then  Washington — now  a lank, 
dreamy-eyed  stripling  between  twenty-two  and  twenty-three 
years  of  age — said  : 

“ If  Col.  Sellers  would  come  for  me,  I would  go  and  stay 
with  him  a while,  till  the  Tennessee  land  is  sold.  He  has 
often  wanted  me  to  come,  ever  since  he  moved  to  Hawk- 
eye.” 

“I’m  afraid  he  can’t  well  come  for  you,  Washington. 
From  what  I can  hear — not  from  Au/i  of  course,  but  from 
others — he  is  not  far  from  as  bad  off  as  we  are — and  his  fam- 
ily is  as  large,  too.  He  might  find  something  for  you  to  do, 
maybe,  but  you’d  better  try  to  get  to  him  yourself,  Wash- 
ington— it’s  only  thirty  miles.” 

“ But  how  can  I,  father  ? There’s  no  stage  or  anything.’^ 

“ And  if  there  were,  stages  require  money.  A stage  goes 
from  Swansea,  five  miles  from  here.  But  it  would  be  cheaper 
to  walk.” 

, “ Father,  they  must  know  you  there,  and  no  doubt  they 


LAYING  PLANS.  71 

•would  credit  you  in  a moment,  for  a little  stage  ride  like 
that.  Couldn’t  you  write  and  ask  them  ?” 

“ Couldn’t  Washington — seeing  it’&  you  that  wants 

the  ride?  And  what  do  you  think  you’ll  do,  Washington, 
when  you  get  to  Hawkey e ? Finish  your  invention  for 
making  window-glass  opaque  ? ” 

‘‘Ho,  sir,  I have  given  that  up.  I almost  knew  I could  do 
it,  but  it  was  so  tedious  and  troublesome  1 quit  it.” 

“ I was  afraid  of  it,  my  boy.  Then  I suppose  you’ll  finish 
your  plan  of  coloring  hen’s  eggs  by  feeding  a peculiar  diet 
to  the  hen  ? ” 

“Ho,  sir.  I believe  I have  found  out  the  stuff  that  will 
do  it,  but  it  kills  the  hen ; so  I have  dropped  that  for  the 
present,  though  I can  take  it  up  again  some  day  when  I learn 
how  to  manage  the  mixture  better.” 

“Well,  what  have  you  got  on  hand — anything?” 

“Yes,  sir,  three  or  four  things.  I think  they  are  all  good 
and  can  all  be  done,  but  they  are  tiresome,  and  besides  they 
require  money.  But  as  soon  as  the  land  is  sold ” 

“Emily,  were  you  about  to  say  something?”  said  Haw- 
kins. 

“ Yes,  sir.  If  you  are  willing,  I will  go  to  St.  Louis. 
That  will  make  another  mouth  less  to  feed.  Mrs.  Buckner 
has  always  wanted  me  to  come.” 

“ But  the  money,  child  ? ” 

“ Why  I think  she  would  send  it,  if  you  would  write  her 
— and  I know  she  w(udd  wait  for  her  pay  till ” 

“ Come,  Laura,  let’s  hear  from  you,  my  girl.” 

Emily  and  Laura  were  about  the  same  age — between  sev- 
enteen and  eighteen.  Emily  was  fair  and  pretty,  girlish  and 
diffident — blue  eyes  and  light  hair.  Laura  had  a proud  bear- 
ing and  a somewhat  mature  look;  she  had  fine,  clean-cut 
features,  her  complexion  was  pure  white  and  contrasted 
vividly  with  her  black  hair  and  eyes ; she  was  not  what  one 
calls  pretty — she  was  beautiful.  She  said  : 

“I  will  go  to  St.  Louis,  too,  sir.  I will  find  a way  to  get 
there.  1 will  make  a w^ay.  And  I will  find  a way  to  help 


72 


THE  BREAD  CAST  UPON  THE  WATERS  POUND. 


myself  along,  and  do  wliat  I can  to  help  the  rest,  too.” 

She  spoke  it  like  a princess.  Mrs.  Hawkins  smiled  jwoud- 
ly  and  kissed  her,  saying  in  a tone  of  fond  reproof : 

So  one  of  my  girls  is  going  to  turn  out  and  work  for  her 
living ! It’s  like  your  pluck  and  spirit,  child,  but  we  will 
hope  that  we  haven’t  got  quite  down  to  that,  yet.” 

The  girl’s  eyes  beamed  affection  under  her  mother’s  caress. 
Then  she  straightened  up,  folded  her  white  hands  in  her  lap 


A FAMILY  COUNCIL. 


and  became  a splendid  ice-berg.  Clay’s  dog  put  up  his 
brown  nose  for  a little  attention,  and  got  it.  lie  retired 
under  the  table  with  an  apologetic  yelp,  which  did  not  affect 
the  iceberg. 

Judge  Hawkins  had  written  and  asked  Clay  to  return  home 
and  consult  with  him  upon  family  affairs.  lie  arrived  the 
evening  after  this  conversation,  and  the  whole  household 
gave  him  a rapturous  welcome.  He  brought  sadly  needed 
help  with  him,  consisting  of  the  savings  of  a year  and  a half 
of  work — nearly  two  hundred  dollars  in  money. 


A STAFF  TO  LEAN  UPON. 


73 


It  was  a ray  of  sunshine  which  (to  this  easy  household)  was 
the  earnest  of  a clearing  sky. 

Bright  and  early  in  the  morning  the  family  were  astir,  and 
all  were  busy  preparing  Washington  for  his  journey — at  least 
all  but  Washington  himself,  who  sat  apart,  steeped  in  a rev- 
erie. When  the  time  for  his  departure  came,  it  was  easy  to 
see  how  fondly  all  loved  him  and  how  hard  it  was  to  let  him 
go,  notwithstanding  they  had  often  seen  him  go  before,  in  his 
Bt.  Louis  schooling  days.  In  the  most  matter-of-course  way 
they  had  borne  the  burden  of  getting  him  ready  for  his  trip, 
never  seeming  to  think  of  his  helping  in  the  matter ; in  the 
same  matter-of-course  way  Clay  had  hired  a horse  and  cart ; 
and  now  that  the  good-byes  were  ended  he  bundled  Wash- 
ington’s baggage  in  and  drove  away  with  the  exile. 

At  Swansea  Clay  paid  his  stage  fare,  stowed  him  away  in 
the  vehicle,  and  saw  him  off.  Then  he  returned  home  and 
reported  progress,  like  a committee  of  the  whole. 

Clay  remained  at  home  several  days.  He  held  many  con- 
sultations with  his  mother  upon  the  financial  condition  of 
the  family,  and  talked  once  with  his  father  upon  the  same 
subject,  but  only  once.  He  found  a change  in  that  quarter 
which  was  distressing ; years  of  fiuctuating  fortune  had  done 
their  work ; each  reverse  had  weakened  the  father’s  spirit 
and  impaired  his  energies;  his  last  misfortune  seemed  to 
have  left  hope  and  ambition  dead  within  him ; he  had  no 
projects,  formed  no  plans — evidently  he  was  a vanquished 
man.  He  looked  worn  and  tired.  He  inquired  into  Clay’s 
affairs  and  prospects,  and  when  he  found  that  Clay  was  doing 
pretty  well  and  was  likely  to  do  still  better,  it  was  plain  that 
he  resigned  himself  with  easy  facility  to  look  to  the  son  for 
a support;  and  he  said,  “Keep  yourself  informed  of  poor 
W ashington’s  condition  and  movements,  and  help  him  along 
all  you  can.  Clay.” 

The  younger  children,  also,  seemed  relieved  of  all  fears 
and  distresses,  and  very  ready  and  willing  to  look  to  Clay  for 
a livelihood.  Within  three  days  a general  tranquility  and 
satisfaction  reigned  in  the  household.  Clay’s  hundred  and 


74: 


PEACE  AND  CONTENTMENT. 


eighty  or  ninety  dollars  had  worked  a wonder.  The  family 
were  as  contented,  now,  and  as  free  from  care  as  they  could 
have  been  with  a fortune.  It  was  well  that  Mrs.  Hawkins 
held  the  purse — otherwise  the  treasure  would  have  lasted  but 
a very  little  while. 

It  took  but  a trifle  to  pay  Hawkins’s  outstanding  obliga- 
tions, for  he  had  always  had  a horror  of  debt. 

When  Clay  bade  his  home  good-bye  and  set  out  to  return 
to  the  fleld  of  his  labors,  he  was  conscious  that  henceforth  ho 
was  to  have  his  father’s  family  on  his  hands  as  pensioners ; 
but  he  did  not  allow  himself  to  chafe  at  the  thought,  for  ho 
reasoned  that  his  father  had  dealt  by  him  with  a free  hand 
and  a loving  one  all  his  life,  and  now  that  hard  fortune  had 
broken  his  spirit  it  ought  to  be  a pleasure,  not  a pain,  to  work 
for  him.  The  younger  children  were  born  and  educated 
dependents.  They  had  never  been  taught  to  do  anything- 
for  themselves,  and  it  did  not  seem  to  occur  to  them  to  mako 
an  attempt  now. 

The  girls  would  not  have  been  permitted  to  work  for  a 
living  under  any  circumstances  whatever.  It  was  a southern 
family,  and  of  good  blood ; and  for  any  person  except  Laura, 
either  within  or  without  the  household  to  have  suggested 
such  an  idea  would  have  brought  upon  the  suggester  the  sus- 
picion of  being  a lunatic. 


CHAPTER  VIT. 


Via,  Pecunia  ! when  she’s  run  and  gone 
And  fled,  and  dead,  then  will  I fetch  her  again 
With  aqua  vitae,  out  of  an  old  hogshead  ! 

While  there  are  lees  of  wine,  or  dregs  of  beer, 

‘ I’ll  never  want  her  ! Coin  her  out  of  cobwebs. 

Dust,  but  I’ll  have  her ! raise  wool  upon  egg-shells, 

Sir,  and  make  grass  grow  out  of  marrow-bones, 

To  make  her  come! 

B.  Jonson. 

Bearing  Washington  Elawkins  and  his  fortunes,  the 
stage-coach  tore  out  of  Swansea  at  a fearful  gait,  witk 
horn  tooting  gaily  and  half  the  town  admiring  from  doors, 
and  windows.  But  it  did  not  tear  any  more  after  it  got  to 
the  outskirts;  it  dragged  along  stupidly  enough,  then — 
tilHt  came  in  sight  of  the  next  hamlet;  and  then  the  bugle 
tooted  gaily  again  and  again  the  vehicle  went  tearing  by  the 
houses.  This  sort  of  conduct  marked  every  entry  to  a. 
station  and  every  exit  from  it ; and  so  in  those  days  children 
grew  up  with  the  idea  that  stage-coaches  always  tore  and 
always  tooted ; but  they  also  grew  up  with  the  idea  that 
pirates  w^ent  into  action  in  their  Sunday  clothes,  carrying  the 
black  flag  in  one  hand  and  pistolling  people  with  the  other^, 
merely  because  they  were  so  represented  in  the  pictures — 
but  these  illusions  vanished  when  later  years  brought  their 
disenchanting  wisdom.  They  learned  then  that  the  stage- 
coach is  but  a poor,  plodding,  vulgar  thing  in  the  solitudes 


76 


A SEARCH  EOR  A DIME. 


of  the  highway ; and  that  the  pirate  is  only  a seedy,  unfan- 
tastic  rough,”  when  he  is  out  of  the  pictures. 

Toward  evening,  the  stage-coach  came  thundering  into 
Hawkeye  with  a perfectly  triumphant  ostentation — which 
"was  natural  and  proper,  for  Hawkeye  was  a pretty  large 
town  for  interior  Missouri.  Washington,  very  stiff  and  tired 
.and  hungry,  climbed  out,  and  wondered  how  he  was  to  pro- 
ceed now.  But  his  difficulty  was  quickly  solved.  Col.  Sel- 
lers came  down  the  street  on  a run  and  arrived  panting  for 
breath.  He  said : 

^‘  Lord  bless  you — I’m  glad  to  see  you,  Washington — per- 
fectly delighted  to  see  you,  my  boy ! I got  your  message. 
Been  on  the  look-out  for  you.  Heard  the  stage  horn,  but 
bad  a party  I couldn’t  shake  off — man  that’s  got  an  enormous 
thing  on  hand — wants  me  to  put  some  capital  into  it — and  I 
tell  you,  my  boy,  I could  do  worse,  I could  do  a deal  worse, 
j^o,  now,  let  that  luggage  alone;  I’ll  fix  that.  Here,  Jerry, 
got  anything  to  do  ? All  right — shoulder  this  plunder  and 
follow  me.  Come  along,  Washington.  Lord  I’m  glad  to  see 
you ! Wife  and  the  children  are  just  perishing  to  look  at 
you.  Bless  you,  they  won’t  know  you,  you’ve  grown  so. 
Bolks  all  well,  I suppose  ? That’s  good — glad  to  hear  that. 
We’re  always  going  to  run  down  and  see  them,  but  I’m  into 
so  many  operations,  and  they’re  not  things  a man  feels  like 
.trusting  to  other  people,  and  so  somehow  we  keep  putting  it 
'Off.  Fortunes  in  them  ! Good  gracious,  it’s  the  country  to 
p)ile  up  wealth  in  ! Here  we  are — here’s  where  the  Sellers 
'dynasty  hangs  out.  Dump  it 'on  the  door-step,  Jerry — the 
blackest  niggro  in  the  State,  Washington,  but  got  a good 
beart — mighty  likely  boy,  is  Jerry.  And  now  I suppose 
you’ve  got  to  have  ten  cents,  Jerry.  That’s  all  right — when 
ra  man  works  for  me — when  a man — in  the  other  pocket,  I 
Teckon — when  a man — why,  where  the  mischief  is  that  port- 
monnaie! — when  a — well  now  that’s  odd — Oh,  now  I re^ 
member,  must  have  left  it  at  the  bank ; and  b’Georgc  I’ve 
left  my  check-book,  too — Polly  says  I ought  to  have  a nurse 


plexion  has  brought  on  the  twilight  half  an  hour  ahead  of 
time.  Pretty  fair  joke — pretty  fair.  Here  he  is,  Polly  ! 
Washington’s  come,  children  ! — come  now,  don’t  eat  him  up 
— finish  him  in  the  house.  Welcome,  my  boy,  to  a mansion 
that  is  proud  to  shelter  the  son  of  the  best  man  that  walks  on 
the  ground.  Si  Hawkins  has  been  a good  friend  to  me,  and 
I believe  I can  say  that  whenever  I’ve  had  a chance  to  put 
him  into  a good  thing  I’ve  done  it,  and  done  it  pretty  cheer- 
fully, too.  I put  him  into  that  sugar  speculation — what  a 
s^graj^  thing  ttojv^.  if  we  hadn’t  held  on  too  long ! ” 

True  enough;  but  heading  on  ton Ioiig~ ha ddilfe'^  ruined 
both  of  them  ; and  the  saddest  part  of  it  was,  that  they  never 
had  had  so  much  money  to  lose  before,  for  Sellers’s  sale  of 
their  mule  crop  that  year  in  Hew  Orleans  had  been  a great 
financial  success.  If  he  had  kept  out  of  sugar  and  gone  back 


WELCOME  WASHINGTON.  IT 

— ^well,  no  matter.  Let  me  have  a dime,  Washington,  if 
you’ve  got— ah,  thanks.  How  clear  out,  Jerry,  your  con>- 


ATTEMPTED  CORNER  IN  SPECIE. 


THE  SELLERS  MANSION. 


home  content  to  stick  to  mules  it  would  have  been  a happy 
wisdom.  As  it  was,  he  managed  to  kill  two  birds  with  one 
stone — that  is  to  say,  he  killed  the  sugar  speculation  by  hold- 
ing for  high  rates  till  he  had  to  sell  at  the  bottom  figure,  and 
that  calamity  killed  the  mule  that  laid  the  golden  egg — which 
is  but  a figurative  expression  and  will  be  so  understood. 
Sellers  had  returned  home  cheerful  but  empty-handed,  and 
the  mule  business  lapsed  into  other  hands.  The  sale  of  the 
Hawkins  property  by  the  Sheriff  had  followed,  and  the  Haw- 
kins hearts  been  torn  to  see  Uncle  Han’l  and  his  wife  pass 
from  the  auction-block  into  the  hands  of  a negro  trader  and 
depart  for  the  remote  South  to  be  seen  no  more  by  the 
family.  It  had  seemed  like  seeing  their  own  flesh  and  blood 
sold  into  banishment. 

Washington  was  greatly  pleased  with  the  Sellers  mansion. 
It  was  a two-story-and-a-half  brick,  and  much  more  stylish 
than  any  of  its  neighbors.  He  was  borne  to  the  family  sit- 
ting room  in  triumph  by  the  swarm  of  little  Sellerses,  the 
parents  following  with  their  arms  about  each  other’s  waists. 

The  whole  family  were  poorly  and  cheaply  dressed  ; and 
the  clothing,  although  neat  and  clean,  showed  many  evi- 
dences of  having  seen  long  service.  The  Colonel’s  ‘‘stovepipe” 
hat  was  napless  and  shiny  with  much  polishing,  but  never- 
theless it  had  an  almost  convincing  expression  about  it  of 
having  been  just  purchased  new.  The  rest  of  his  clothing 
was  napless  and  shiny,  too,  but  it  had  the  air  of  being 
entirely  satisfied  with  itself  and  blnndly  sorry  for  other  peo- 
ple’s clothes.  It  was  growing  rather  dark  in  the  house,  and 
the  evening  air  was  chilly,  too.  Sellers  said  : 

“Lay  off  your  overcoat,  Washington,  and  draw  up  to  the 
stove  and  make  yourself  at  home — just  consider  yourself 
under  your  own  shingles  my  boy — I’ll  have  a fire  going,  in  a 
jiffy.  Light  the  lamp,  Polly,  dear,  and  let’s  have  things 
cheerful — ^just  as  glad  to  see  you,  Washington,  as  if  you’d 
been  lost  a century  and  we’d  found  you  again  ! ” 

By  this  time  the  Colonel  was  conveying  a lighted  match 
into  a poor  little  stove.  Then  he  propped  the  stove  door  to 
hs  place  by  leaning  the  poker  against  it,  for  the  hinges  had 


THE  COLONEL’S  WONDERFUL  CLOCK. 


79 


retired  from  business.  This  door  framed  a small  square  of 
isinglass,  which  now  warmed  up  with  a faint  glow.  Mrs. 
Sellers  lit  a cheap,  showy  lamp,  which  dissipated  a good  deal 
of  the  gloom,  and  then  everybody  gathered  into  the  light  and 
took  the  stove  into  close  companionship. 

The  children  climbed  all  over  Sellers,  fondled  him,  petted 
him,  and  were  lavishly  petted  in  return.  Out  from  this  tug- 
ging, laughing,  chattering  disguise  of  legs  and  arms  and 
little  faces,  the  Colonel’s  voice  worked  its  way  and  his  tire- 
less tongue  ran  blithely  on  without  interruption ; and  the 
purring  little  wife,  diligent  with  her  knitting,  sat  near  at 
hand  and  looked  happy  and  proud  and  grateful;  and  she 
listened  as  one  who  listens  to  oracles  and  gospels  and  whose 
grateful  soul  is  being  refreshed  with  the  bread  of  life.  • Bye 
and  bye  the  children  quieted  down  to  listen ; clustered  about 
their  father,  and  resting  their  elbows  on  his  legs,  they  hung 
upon  his  words  as  if  he  were  uttering  the  music  of  the  spheres. 

A dreary  old  hair-cloth  sofa  against  the  wall ; a few  dam- 
aged chairs ; the  small  table  the  lamp  stood  on ; the  crippled 
stove — these  things  constituted  the  furniture  of  the  room. 
There  was  no  carpet  on  the  floor ; on  the  wall  were  occasion- 
al square-shaped  interruptions  of  the  general  tint  of  the  plas- 
ter which  betrayed  that  there  used  to  be  pictures  in  the  house 
— but  there  w^ere  none  now.  There  were  no  mantel  orna- 
ments, unless  one  might  bring  himself  to  regard  as  an  orna- 
ment a clock  which  never  came  within  flfteen  strokes  of 
striking  the  right  time,  and  whose  hands  always  hitched 
together  at  tw^enty-two  minutes  past  anything  and  traveled 
in  company  the  rest  of  the  way  home. 

“Remarkable  clock  !”  said  Sellers,  and  got  up  and  wound 
it.  “I’ve  been  offered — well,  I wouldn’t  expect  you  to 
believe  what  I’ve  been  offered  for  that  clock.  Old  Gov. 
Hager  never  sees  me  but  he  says,  ‘ Come,  now,  Colonel,  name 
your  price — I must  have  that  clock  ! ’ But  my  goodness  I’d 

as  soon  think  of  selling  my  wife.  As  I was  saying  to 

silence  in  the  court,  now,  she’s  begun  to  strike ! You  can’t 
talk  against  her — ^you  have  to  just  be  patient  and  hold  up  till 
she’s  said  her  say.  Ah — well,  as  I was  saying,  when — she’s 


80 


“ HAIN’T  YOU  FATHER?” 


beginning  again!  Mneteen,  twenty,  twenty-one,  twenty- 

two,  twen ah,  that’s  all. — Yes,  as  I was  saying  to  old 

Judge go  it,  old  girl,  don’t  mind  me. — 'Now  how  is  that  ? 

^isn’t  that  a good,  spirited  tone  ? She  can  wake  the  dead  ! 
Sleep  ? Why  you  might  as  well  try  to  sleep  in  a thunder- 
factory.  Now  just  listen  at  that.  She’ll  strike  a hundred 
and  fifty,  now,  without  stopping, — you’ll  see.  There  ain’t 
another  clock  like  that  in  Christendom.” 

Washington  hoped  that  this  might  be  true,  for  the  din  was 
distracting — though  the  family,  one  and  all,  seemed  filled 
with  joy;  and  the  more  the  clock  “buckled  down  to  her 
work”  as  the  Colonel  expressed  it,  and  the  more  insupport- 
able the  clatter  became,  the  more  enchanted  they  all  appeared 
to  be.  When  there  was  silence,  Mrs  Sellers  lifted  upon  Wash- 
ington a face  that  beamed  with  a childlike  pride,  and  said : 

“ It  belonged  to  his  grandmother.” 

The  look  and  the  tone  were  a plain  call  for  admiring  sur- 
prise, and  therefore  Washington  said — (it  was  the  only  thiuig 
that  offered  itself  at  the  moment :) 

“ Indeed ! ” 

“Yes,  it  did,  didn’t  it  father!”  exclaimed  one  of  the 
twins.  “ She  was  my  great-grandmother — and  George’s  toO’ ; 
wasn’t  she,  father  ! You  never  saw  her,  but  Sis  has  seen  her, 
when  Sis  was  a baby — didn’t  you.  Sis!  Sis  has  seen  her 
most  a hundred  times.  She  was  awful  deef — she’s  dead, 
now.  Ain’t  she,  father!  ” 

All  the  children  chimed  in,  now,  with  one  general  Babel 
of  information  about  deceased — nobody  offering  to  read  the' 
riot  act  or  seeming  to  discountenance  the  insurrection  or  dis- 
approve of  it  in  any  way — but  the  head  twin  drowned  all  the 
turmoil  and  held  his  own  against  the  field : 

“ It’s  our  clock,  now — and  it’s  got  wheels  inside  of  it,  and 
a thing  that  flutters  every  time  she  strikes — don’t  it,  father ! 
Great-grandmother  died  before  hardly  any  of  us  was  born — 
she  was  an  Old-School  Baptist  and  had  warts  all  over  her — 
you  ask  father  if  she  didn’t.  She  had  an  uncle  once  that  was 
bald-headed  and  used  to  have  fits ; he  wasn’t  our  uncle,  I 
don’t  know  what  he  was  to  us — some  kin  or  another  I reckon 


THE  COLOInEL’«  CHEERFUL  FIREiSlDE.  81 

— father’s  seen  him  a thousand  times — hain’t  you,  father ! 
We  used  to  have  a calf  that  et  apples  and  just  chawed  up 
dishrags  like  nothing,  and  if  you  stay  here  you’ll  see  lots  of 
funerals — won’t  he.  Sis  ! Did  you  ever  see  a house  afire  ? 

I have  ! Once  me  and  Jim  Terry ” 

But  Sellers  began  to  speak  now,  and  the  storm  ceased.  He 
began  to  tell  about  an  enormous  speculation  he  was  thinking 
of  embarking  some  capital  in—  a speculation  which  some  Lon- 
don bankers  had  been  over  to  consult  with  him  about — and 
soon  he  was  building  glittering  pyramids  of  coin,  and  Wash- 
ington was  presently  growing  opulent  under  the  magic  of  his 
eloquence.  But  at  the  same  time  Washington  was  not  able 
to  ignore  the  cold  entirely.  He  was  nearly  as  close  to  the 
stove  as  he  could  get,  and  yet  he  could  not  persuade  himself 
that  he  felt  the  slightest  heat,  notwithstanding  the  isinglass 
door  was  still  gently  and  serenely  glowing.  He  tried  to  get 


A BRILLIANT  IDEA. 

a trifle  closer  to  the  stove,  and  the  consequence  was,  he 
tripped  the  supporting  poker  and  the  stove-door  tum- 
bled to  the  floor.  And  then  there  was  a revelation — there 
6- 


82 


A NEW  CUKE  EOK  THE  RHEUMATISM. 


was  nothing  in  the  stove  hut  a lighted  tallow-candle ! 

The  poor  youth  blushed  and  felt  as  if  he  must  die  with 
shame.  But  the  Colonel  was  only  disconcerted  for  a moment 
— he  straightway  found  his  voice  again : 

“A  little  idea  of  my  own,  Washington — one  of  the  great- 
est things  in  the  world  ! You  must  write  and  tell  your  father 
about  it — don’t  forget  that,  now.  I have  been  reading  up 
some  European  Scientific  reports — friend  of  mine.  Count  Fu- 
gier,  sent  them  to  me — sends  me  all  sorts  of  things  from 
Paris — he  thinks  the  world  of  me,  Fugier  does.  Well,  I saw 
that  the  Academy  of  France  had  been  testing  the  properties 
i)f  heat,  and  they  came  to  the  conclusion  that  it  was  a non- 
conductor or  something  like  that,  and  of  course  its  influence 
must  necessarily  be  deadly  in  nervous  organizations  with  ex- 
citable temperaments,  especially  where  there  is  any  tendency 
toward  rheumatic  aifections.  Bless  you  I saw  in  a moment 
what  was  the  matter  with  us,  and  says  I,  out  goes  your  fires  ! 
— no  more  slow  torture  and  certain  death  for  me,  sir.  What 
you  want  is  the  a2?;pearance  of  heat,  not  the  heat  itself — that’s 
the  idea.  Well  how  to  do  it  was  the  next  thing.  I just  put 
my  head  to  work,  pegged  away  a couple  of  days,  and  here 
you  are ! Bheumatism  ? Why  a man  can’t  any  more  start 
a case  of  rheumatism  in  this  house  than  he  can  shake  an 
opinion  out  of  a mummy  ! Stove  with  a candle  in  it  and  a 
transparent  door — that’s  it — it  has  been  the  salvation  of  this 
family.  Don’t  you  fail  to  write  your  father  about  it,  Wash- 
ington. And  tell  him  the  idea  is  mine — I’m  no  more  con- 
ceited than  most  people,  I reckon,  but  you  know  it  is  human 
nature  for  a man  to  want  credit  for  a thing  like  that.” 

Washington  said  with  his  blue  lips  that  he  would,  but  he 
said  in  his  secret  heart  that  he  would  promote  no  such  in- 
iquity. He  tried  to  believe  in  the  healthfulness  of  the  in- 
vention, and  succeeded  tolerably  well ; but  after  all  he  could 
not  feel  that  good  health  in  a frozen  body  was  any  real  im* 
provement  on  the  rheumatism. 


CHAPTER  VIIL 


— Whan  pe  horde  is  thynne,  as  of  seruyse, 

Nought  replenesshed  with  grete  diuersite 
Of  mete  & drinke,  good  chere  may  then  suffise 

With  honest  talkyng 

The  Book  of  Curtesye. 

Mammon.  Come  on,  sir.  Now,  you  set  your  foot  on  shore 
In  Novo  Orbe  ; here’s  the  rich  Peru  : 

And  there  within,  sir,  are  the  golden  mines, 

Great  Solomon’s  Ophir ! B.  Jonson. 


The  supper  at  Col.  Sellers’s  was  not  sumptuous,  in  the 
beginning,  but  it  improved  on  acquaintance.  That  is  to 
say,  that  wbat  Washington  regarded  at  first  sight  as  mere 
lowly  potatoes,  presently  became  awe-inspiring  agricultural 
productions  that  had  been  reared  in  some  ducal  garden 
beyond  the  sea,  under  the  sacred  eye  of  the  duke  himself, 
who  had  sent  them  to  Sellers;  the  bread  was  from  corn 
which  could  be  grown  in  only  one  favored  locality  in  the 
earth  and  only  a favored  few  could  get  it ; *the  Rio  cofiee, 
which  at  first  seemed  execrable  to  the  taste,  took  to  itself  an 
improved  fiavor  when  W ashington  was  told  to  drink  it  slowly 
and  not  hurry  what  should  be  a lingering  luxury  in  order  to 
be  fully  appreciated — it  was  from  the  private  stores  of  a 
Brazilian  nobleman  with  an  unrememberable  name.  The 
Colonel’s  tongue  was  a magician’s  wand  that  turned  dried: 
apples  into  figs  and  water  into  wine  as  easily  as  it  could  change 
a hovel  into  a palace  and  present  poverty  into  imminent 
future  riches. 

Washington  slept  in  a cold  bed  in  a carpetless  room  and 
woke  up  in  a palace  in  the  morning ; at  least  the  palace  lin- 
gered during  the  moment  that  he  was  rubbing  his  eyes  and 
getting  his  bearings — and  then  it  disappeared  and  he  recog- 

83 


84: 


PRODIGIOUS  OPERATIONS. 


nized  that  the  Coloners  inspiring  talk  had  been  influencing! 
his  dreams.  Fatigue  had  made  him  sleep  late;  when  he 
entered  the  sitting  room  he  noticed  that  the  old  hair-cloth 
sofa  was  absent ; when  he  sat  down  to  breakfast  the  Colonel 
tossed  six  or  seven  dollars  in  bills  on  the  table,  counted  them’ 
over,  said  he  was  a little  short  and  must  call  upon  his  banker ; 
then  returned  the  bills  to  his  wallet  with  the  indifferent  air 
of  a man  who  is  used  to  money.  The  breakfast  was  not  an 
improvement  upon  the  supper,  but  the  Colonel  talked  it  up 
and  transformed  it  into  an  oriental  feast.  Bye  and  bye,  he 
said : 

I intend  to  look  out  for  you,  Washington,  my  boy.  T 
hunted  up  a place  for  you  yesterday,  but  I am  not  referring; 
to  that,  now — that  is  a mere  livelihood — mere  bread  and  buB 
ter ; but  when  I say  I mean  to  look  out  for  you  I mean  some^ 
thing  very  different.  I mean  to  put  things  in  your  way  thaft 
will  make  a mere  livelihood  a trifling  thing.  I’ll  put  you  in 
a way  to  make  more  money  than  you’ll  ever  know  what  to  do 
with.  You’ll  be  right  here  where  I can  put  my  hand  on  you 
when  anything  turns  up.  I’ve  got  some  prodigious  opera, - 
tions  on  foot ; but  I’m  keeping  quiet ; mum’s  the  word 
your  old  hand  don’t  go  around  pow-wowing  and  letting  every- 
body see  his  k’yards  and  find  out  his  little  game.  But  all  in 
good  time,  Washington,  all  in  good  time.  You’ll  see.  Now 
there’s  an  operation  in  corn  that  looks  well.  Some  New 
York  men  are  trying  to  get  me  to  go  into  it — buy  up  all  the 
growing  crops  and  just  boss  the  market  when  they  mature — 
ah  I tell  you  it’s  a great  thing.  And  it  only  costs  a trifle ; 
two  millions  or  two  and  a half  will  do  it.  I haven’t  exactly 
promised  yet — there’s  no  hurry — the  more  indifferent  I seem, 
you  know,  the  more  anxious  those  fellows  will  get.  And 
then  there  is  the  hog  speculation — that’s  bigger  still.  We’ve 
got  quiet  men  at  work,”  [he  was  very  impressive  here,] 

“ mousing  around,  to  get  propositions  out  of  all  the  farmers 
in  the  whole  west  and  northwest  for  the  hog  crop,  and  other 
agents  quietly  getting  propositions  and  terms  out  of  all  the 
manufactories — and  don’t  you  see,  if  we  can  get  all  the  hogs 


THE  HORSE  TO  BET  ON. 


.•and  all  the  slaughter  houses  into  our  hands  on  the  dead  quiet 
— whew  ! it  would  take  three  ships  to  carry  the  money. — I’ve 
looked  into  the  thing — calculated  all  the  chances  for  and  all 
the  chances  against,  and  though  I shake  my  head  and  hesitate 
and  keep  on  thinking,  apparently,  I’ve  got  my  mind  made  up 
that  if  the  thing  can  be  done  on  a capital  of  six  millions, 
that’s  the  horse  to  put  up  money  on!  Why  Washington — 
but  what’s  the  use  of  talking  about  it — any  man  can  see  that 


BIG  THINGS  SHOWN  UP. 

there’s  whole  Atlantic  oceans  of  cash  in  it,  gulfs  and  bays 
thrown  in.  But  there’s  a bigger  thing  than  that,  yet — a big- 
ger ” 

‘^Why  Colonel,  you  can’t  want  anything  bigger!”  said 
Washington,  his  eyes  blazing.  “Oh,  I wish  I could  go  into 
'either  of  those  speculations — I only  wish  I had  money — I 
wish  I wasn’t  cramped  and  kept  down  and  fettered  with  pov- 
erty, and  such  prodigious  chances  lying  right  here  in  sight ! 
Oh,  it  is  a fearful  thing  to  be  poor.  But  don’t  throw  away 
those  things — they  are  so  splendid  and  I can  see  how  sure 


86 


THE  ROTHSCPIILD’S  PROPOSITION. 


they  are.  Don’t  throw  them  away  for  something  still  better 
and  maybe  fail  in  it ! I wouldn’t.  Colonel.  I would  stick  to 
these.  I wish  father  were  here  and  were  his  old  seK  again 
— Oh,  he  never  in  his  life  had  such  chances  as  these  are. 
Colonel,  you  canH  improve  on  these — no  man  can  improve 
on  them ! ” 

A sweet,  compassionate  smile  played  about  the  Colonel’s- 
features,  and  he  leaned  over  the  table  wuth  the  air  of  a man 
who  is  “ going  to  slrow  you  ” and  do  it  without  the  least 
trouble : 

‘^Why  Washington,  my  hoy,  these  things  are  nothing. 
They  look  large — of  course  they  look  large  to  a novice,  but  ta 
a man  who  has  been  all  his  life  accustomed  to  large  oper- 
ations— shaw  ! They’re  well  enough  to  wdiile  away  an  idle 
hour  with,  or  furnish  a bit  of  employment  that  will  give  a 
trifle  of  idle  capital  a chance  to  earn  its  bread  while  it  is  waiting 
for  something  to  do^  but — now  just  listen  a moment — just 
let  me  give  you  an  idea  of  what  we  old  veterans  of  commerce 
call  ‘ business.’  Here’s  the  Hothschild’s  proposition — this  is 
between  you  and  me,  you  understand ” 

Washington  nodded  three  or  four  times  impatiently,  and 
his  glowing  eyes  said,  ^W^es,  yes — hurry — I under  > 
stand ” 

“fo"*  I wouldn’t  have  it  get  out  for  a fortune.  They 

want  me  to  go  in  wdth  them  on  the  sly — agent  was  here  two 
weeks  ago  about  it — go  in  on  the  sly  ” [voice  down  to  an  im- 
pressive wdiisper,  now,]  and  buy  up  a hundred  and  thirteen 
wild  cat  banks  in  Ohio,  Indiana,  Kentucky,  Illinois  and  Mis- 
souri— notes  of  these  banks  are  at  all  sorts  of  discount  now 
— average  discount  of  the  hundred  and  thirteen  is  forty-four 
per  cent  — buy  them  all  up,  you  see,  and  then  all  of  a sudden 
let  the  cat  out  of  the  bag  ! Whiz  ! the  stock  of  every  one  of 
those  wildcats  would  spin  up  to  a tremendous  premium  before 
you  could  turn  a handspring — profit  on  the  speculation  not  a 
dollar  less  than  forty  millions  ! ” [An  eloquent  pause,  while 
the  marvelous  vision  settled  into  W.’s  focus.]  Where’s  your 
hogs  now  ! Why  my  dear  innocent  boy,  we  would  just  sit 


A SMALL  IDEA.  87 

down  on  the  front  door-steps  and  peddle  banks  like  lucifer 
matches ! ” 

Washington  finally  got  his  breath  and  said  : 

Oh,  it  is  perfectly  wonderful ! Why  couldn’t  these 
things  have  happened  in  father’s  day  ? And  I — it’s  of  no 
use — they  simply  lie  before  my  face  and  mock  me.  There 
is  nothing  for  me  but  to  stand  helpless  and  see  other  people 
reap  the  astonishing  harvest.” 

^^^ever  mind,  Washington,  don’t  you  worry.  I’ll  fix  you. 
There’s  plenty  of  chances.  How  much  money  have  you 
got  ? ” 

In  the  presence  of  so  many  millions,  Washington  could  not 
keep  from  blushing  when  he  had  to  confess  that  he  had  but 
eighteen  dollars  in  the  world. 

Well,  all  right — don’t  despair.  Other  people  have  been 
obliged  to  begin  with  less.  I have  a small  idea  that ’may  de- 
velop into  something  for  us  both,  all  in  good  time.  Keep 
your  money  close  and  add  to  it.  I’ll  make  it  breed.  I’ve 
been  experimenting  (to  pass  away  the  time,)  on  a little  pre- 
paration for  curing  sore  eyes — a kind  of  decoction  nine-tenths 
vs  ater  and  the  other  tenth  drugs  that  don’t  cost  more  than  a 
dollar  a barrel ; I’m  still  experimenting ; there’s  one  ingre- 
dient wanted  yet  to  perfect  the  thing,  and  somehow  I can’t 
just  manage  to  hit  upon  the  thing  that’s  necessary,  and  I 
don’t  dare  talk  with  a chemist,  of  course.  But  I’m  progress- 
ing, and  before  many  weeks  I wager  the  country  will  ring 
with  the  fame  of  Beriah  Sellers’  Infallible  Imperial  Oriental 
Optic  Liniment  and  Salvation  for  Sore  Eyes — the  Medical 
Wonder  of  the  Age ! Small  bottles  fifty  cents,  large  ones  a 
dollar.  Average  cost,  five  and  seven  cents  for  the  two  sizes. 
The  first  year  sell,  say,  ten  thousand  bottles  in  Missouri, 
seven  thousand  in  Iowa,  three  thousand  in  Arkansas,  four 
thousand  in  Kentucky,  six  thousand  in  Illinois,  and  say 
twenty -five  thousand  in  the  rest  of  the  country.  Total,  fifty- 
five  thousand  bottles ; profit  clear  of  all  expenses,  twenty 
thousand  dollars  at  the  very  lowest  calculation.  All  the 
capital  needed  is  to  manufacture  the  first  two  thousand  bottles 


88 


SALVATION  TOR  SORE  EYES. 


— say  a hundred  and  fifty  dollars — then  the  money  would 
begin  to  fiow  in.  The  second  year,  sales  would  reach  200,000 
bottles — clear  profit,  say,  $75,000 — and  in  the  meantime  the 
great  factory  would  be  building  in  St.  Louis,  to  cost,  say, 
$100,000.  The  third  year  we  could  easily  sell  1,000,000 
bottles  in  the  United  States  and ” 

“ O,  splendid ! ” said  W ashington.  Let’s  commence  right 
away — let’s ” 

“ 1,000,000  bottles  in  the  United  States — profit  at 

least  $350,000 — and  then  it  would  begin  to  be  time  to  turn 
our  attention  toward  the  real  idea  of  the  business.” 

“ The  real  idea  of  it ! Ain’t  $350,000  a year  a pretty 
real ” 

Stuff!  Why  what  an  infiint  you  are,  Washington — ^what 
a guileless,  sliort-sighted,  easily-contented  innocent  you  are, 
my  poor  little  country-bred  know-nothing  ! Would  I go  to 
all  that  trouble  and  bother  for  the  poor  crumbs  a body  might 
pick  up  ill  this  country  ? Kow  do  I look  like  a man  who — 
does  my  history  suggest  that  I am  a man  who  deals  in  trifles, 
contents  himself  with  the  narrow  horizon  that  hems  in  the 
common  herd,  sees  no  further  than  the  end  of  his  nose? 
Now  you  know  that  that  is  not  me — couldn’t  he  me.  You 
ought  to  know  that  if  I throw  my  time  and  abilities  into  a 
patent  medicine,  it’s  a patent  medicine  whose  field  of  oper- 
ations is  the  solid  earth ! its  clients  the  swarming 
nations  that  inhabit  it  1 Why  what  is  the  republic 
of  America  for  an  eye-water  country  ? Lord  bless  you, 
‘ it  is  nothing  but  a barren  highway  that  you’ve  got 
to  cross  to  get  to  the  true  eye-water  market  1 Why,  W ash- 
ington, in  the  Oriental  countries  people  swarm  like  the  sands 
of  the  desert ; every  square  mile  of  ground  upholds  its  thou- 
sands upon  thousands  of  struggling  human  creatures — and 
every  separate  and  individual  devil  of  them’s  got  the  ophthal- 
mia 1 It’s  as  natural  to  them  as  noses  are — and  sin.  It’s  born 
with  them,  it  stays  wdth  them,  it’s  all  that  some  of  them  have 
left  when  they  die.  Three  years  of  introductory  trade  in  the 
orient  and  what  will  be  the  result  ? Why,  our  headquarters 


WASHINGTON  FASCINATED. 


89 


would  be  ill  Constantinople  and  our  hindquarters  in  Further 
India  ! Factories  and  warehouses  in  Cairo,  Ispahan,  Bagdad, 
Damascus,  Jerusalem,  Yedo,  Peking,  Bangkok,  Delhi,  Born- 
hay  and  Calcutta ! Annual  income — well,  God  only  knows 
how  many  millions  and  millions  apiece  ! ” 

Washington  was  so  dazed,  so  bewildered — his  heart  and  his 


COL.  SELLERS  BLOWING  BUBBLES  FOR  WASHINGTON. 


eyes  had  wandered  so  far  away  among  the  strange  lands 
beyond  the  seas,  and  such  avalanches  of  coin  and  currency 
had  fluttered  and  jingled  confusedly  down  before  him,  that 
he  was  now  as  one  who  has  been  whirling  round  and  round 
for  a time,  and,  stopping  all  at  once,  flnds  his  surroundings 
;still  whirling  and  all  objects  a dancing  chaos.  However, 
little  by  little  the  Sellers  family  cooled  down  and  crystalized 
into  shape,  and  the  poor  room  lost  its  glitter  and  resumed  its 
poverty.  Then  the  youth  found  his  voice  and  begged  Sellers 
to  drop  everything  and  hurry  up  the  eye-water ; and  he  got 
his  eighteen  dollars  and  tried  to  force  it  upon  the  Colonel — 
pleaded  with  him  to  take  it — implored  him  to  do  it.  But 
the  Colonel  would  not ; said  he  would  not  need  the  capital 
(in  his  native  magnificent  way  he  called  that  eighteen  dollars 


90 


UP  IN  A BALLOON. 


Capital)  till  the  eye-water  was  an  accomplished  fact.  He 
made  Washington  easy  in  his  mind,  though,  by  promising 
that  he  would  call  for  it  just  as  soon  as  the  invention  was 
finished,  and  he  added  the  glad  tidings  that  nobody  but  just 
they  two  should  be  admitted  to  a share  in  the  speculation. 

When  Washington  left  the  breakfast  table  he  could  have 
worshiped  that  man.  Washington  was  one  of  that  kind  of 
people  whose  hopes  are  in  the  very  clouds  one  day  and  in  the 
gutter  the  next.  He  walked  on  air,  now.  The  Colonel  was 
ready  to  take  him  around  and  introduce  him  to  the  employ- 
ment he  had  found  for  him,  but  Washington  begged  for  a 
few  moments  in  which  to  write  home ; with  his  kind  of  peo- 
ple, to  ride  to-day’s  new  interest  to  death  and  put  off  yester- 
day’s till  another  time,  is  nature  itself.  He  ran  up  stairs  and 
wrote  glowingly,  enthusiastically,  to  his  mother  about  tho 
hogs  and  the  corn,  the  banks  and  the  eye-water — and  added  a 
few  inconsequential  millions  to  each  project.  And  he  said 
that  people  little  dreamed  what  a man  Col.  Sellers  was,  and 
that  the  world  would  open  its  eyes  when  it  found  out.  And 
he  closed  his  letter  thus : 

“ So  make  yourself  perfectly  easy,  mother — in  a little  while  you  shall  have 
everything  you  want,  and  more.  I am  not  likely  to  stint  you  in  anything,  I 
fancy.  This  money  will  not  be  for  me,  alone,  but  for  all  of  us.  I want  all  to 
share  alike;  and  there  is  going  to  be  far  more  for  each  than  one  person  can 
spend.  Break  it  to  father  cautiously — you  understand  the  need  of  that — break 
it  to  him  cautiously,  for  he  has  had  such  cruel  hard  fortune,  and  is  so  stricken 
by  it  that  great  good  news  might  prostrate  him  more  surely  than  even  bad,  for 
he  is  used  to  the  bad  but  is  grown  sadly  unaccustomed  to  the  other.  Tell  Laura. 
— tell  all  the  children.  And  write  to  Clay  about  it  if.  he  is  not  with  you  yet. 
You  may  tell  Clay  that  whatever  I get  he  can  freely  share  in — freely.  He  knows 
that  that  is  true — there  will  be  no  need  that  I should  swear  to  that  to  make  him 
believe  it.  Good-bye — and  mind  what  I say : Rest  perfectly  easy,  one  and  all 
of  you,  for  our  troubles  are  nearly  at  an  end.” 

Poor  lad,  be  could  not  know  that  bis  mother  would  ciy 
some  loving,  compassionate  tears  over  bis  letter  and  put  off 
tbe  family  with  a synopsis  of  its  contents  wbicb  conveyed  a 
deal  of  love  to  tbem  but  not  mucb  idea  of  bis  prospects  or 
projects.  And  be  never  dreamed  tliat  sucb  a joyful  letter 
could  sadden  ber  and  fill  ber  nigbt  witb  sigbs,  and  troubled 


GENEKAL  BOSWELL. 


91 


thoughts,  and  bodings  of  the  future,  instead  of  filling  it  with 
peace  and  blessing  it  with  restful  sleep. 

When  the  letter  was  done,  Washington  and  the  Colonel 
sallied  forth,  and  as  they  walked  along  Washington  learned 
what  he  was  to  be.  He  was  to  be  a clerk  in  a real  estate 
office.  Instantly  the  fickle  youth’s  dreams  forsook  the  magic 
eye-water  and  flew  back  to  the  Tennessee  Land.  And  the- 
gorgeous  possibilities  of  that  great  domain  straightway  began 
to  occupy  his  imagination  to  such  a degree  that  he  could 
scarcely  manage  to  keep  even  enough  of  his  attention  u2:)on 
the  Colonel’s  talk  to  retain  the  general  run  of  what  he  was. 
saying.  lie  was  glad  it  was  a real  estate  office — he  was  a, 
made  man  now,  sure. 

The  Colonel  said  that  General  Boswell  was  a rich  man  and 
had  a good  and  growing  business;  and  that  Washington’s 
work  would  be  light  and  he  would  get  forty  dollars  a month 
and  be  boarded  and  lodged  in  the  General’s  family — which 
was  as  good  as  ten  dollars  more;  and  even  better,  for  he 
could  not  live  as  well  even  at  the  “ City  Hotel  ” as  he  would 


gen’l  Boswell’s  office. 


there,  and  yet  the  hotel  charged  fifteen  dollars  a month  where 
a man  had  a good  room. 

General  Boswell  was  in  his  office ; a comfortable  looking^ 
place,  with  plenty  of  outline  maps  hanging  about  the  walls 


92 


LOOKS  LIKE  BUSINESS. 


^nd  in  the  windows,  and  a spectacled  man  was  marking  out 
another  one  on  a long  table.  The  office  was  in  the  principal 
street.  The  General  received  Washington  with  a kindly  but 
reserved  politeness.  W ashington  rather  liked  his  looks.  He 
was  about  fifty  years  old,  dignified,  well  preserved  and  well 
dressed.  After  the  Colonel  took  his  leave,  the  General 
talked  a while  with  W ashington — his  talk  consisting  chiefly 
of  instructions  about  the  clerical  duties  of  the  place.  He 
seemed  satisfied  as  to  Washington’s  ability  to  take  care  of 
the  books,  he  was  evidently  a pretty  fair  theoretical  book- 
keeper, and  experience  would  soon  harden  theory  into  prac- 
tice. By  and  by  dinner-time  came,  and  the  two  walked  to 
the  General’s  house  ; and  now  Washington  noticed  an  instinct 
in  himself  that  moved  him  to  keep  not  in  the  General’s  rear, 
exactly,  but  yet  not  at  his  side — somehow  the  old  gentleman’s 
dignity  and  reserve  did  not  inspire  familiarity. 


CHAPTER  IX. 


Quando  ti  veddi  per  la  prima  volta, 

Parse  che  mi  s’aprisse  il  paradise, 

E veniss.mo  gli  angioli  a un  per  volta 
Tutti  ad  apporsi  sopra  al  tuo  bel  viso, 
Tutti  ad  apporsi  sopra  il  tuo  bel  volto, 
M’incatenasti,  e non  mi  so’anco  sciolto — 


Y-ymohmi  hoka,  himak  a yakni  il'^pp^jt  immi  ha  chi  ho — 

— Tajma  kittornaminut  inneiziungnserame,  isikksene  sinikbingmun  illiej,  an- 


nerningaerdlunilo  siurdliminut  piok. 


Mos.  Agl.  Siurdl.  49.32. 


ASHINGTOJST  dreamed  liis  way  along  the  street,  his' 


T T fancy  flitting  from  grain  to  hogs,  from  hogs  to^ 
banks,  from  banks  to  eye-water,  from  eye-water  to  Tennessee 
Land,  and  lingering  but  a feverish  moment  upon  each  of 
these  fascinations.  He  was  conscious  of  but  one  outward 
thing,  to  wit,  the  General,  and  he  was  really  not  vividly  con- 
scious of  him. 

Arrived  at  the  finest  dwelling  in  the  town,  they  entered  it 
and  were  at  home.  Washington  was  introduced  to  Mrs. 
Boswell,  and  his  imagination  was  on  the  point  of  flitting  into 
the  vapory  realms  of  speculation  again,  when  a lovely  girl  of 
sixteen  or  seventeen  came  in.  This  vision  swept  Washing- 
ton’s mind  clear  of  its  chaos  of  glittering  rubbish  in  an  in- 
stant. Beauty  had  fascinated  him  before  ; many  times  he  had 
been  in  love — even  for  weeks  at  a time  with  the  same  object 
— but  his  heart  had  never  suffered  so  sudden  and  so  fierce  an 
assault  as  this,  within  his  recollection. 

Louise  Boswell  occupied  his  mind  and  drifted  among  his 
multiplication  tables  all  the  afternoon.  He  was  constantly 
catching  himself  in  a r»-^^rie — reveries  made  up  of  recalling 
how  she  looked  when  first  burst  upon  him  ; how  her  voice 
thrilled  him  when  sh^  first  spoke  ; how  charmed  the  very  air 
seemed  by  her  presence.  Blissful  as  the  afternoon  was,  de- 
livered up  to  such  a revel  as  this,  it  seemed  an  eternity,  so 


93 


FALLING  IN  LOVE. 


impatient  was  he  to  see  tlie  girl  again.  Other  afternoons  like 
it  followed.  Washington  plunged  into  this  love  atfair  as  he 
plunged  into  everything  else — upon  impulse  and  without  re- 
flection. As  the  days  went  by  it  seemed  plain  that  he  was 
grgwing  in  favor  with  Louise, — not  sweepingly  so,  but  yet 
perceptibly,  he  fancied.  His  attentions  to  her  troubled  her 
father  and  mother  a little,  and  they  warned  Louise,  without 
■stating  particulars  or  making  allusions  to  any  special  person, 
that  a girl  was  sure  to  make  a mistake  who  allowed  herself 
to  marry  anybody  but  a man  who  could  support  her  well. 

Some  instinct  taught  Washington  that  his  present  lack  of 
money  would  be  an  obstruction,  though  possibly  not  a bar,  to 
his  hopes,  and  straightway  his  poverty  became  a torture  to 
him  which  cast  all  his  former  sufferings  under  that  head  into 
the  shade.  He  longed  for  riches  now  as  he  had  never  longed 
for  them  before. 

He  had  been  once  or  twice  to  dine  with  Col.  Sellers,  and  had 
been  discouraged  to  note  that  the  Colonel’s  bill  of  fare  was 
falling  off  both  in  quantity  and  quality — a sign,  he  feared, 
that  the  lacking  ingredient  in  the  eye-water  still  remained 
undiscovered — though  Sellers  always  explained  that  these 
changes  in  the  family  diet  had  been  ordered  by  the  doctor,  or 
suggested  by  some  new  scientific  work  the  Colonel  had  stum- 
bled upon.  But  it  always  turned  out  that  the  lacking  ingre- 
dientstill  lacking — though  it  always  appeared,  at  the 
same  time,  that  the  Colonel  was  right  on  its  heels. 

Every  time  the  Colonel  came  into  the  real  estate  office 
Washington’s  heart  bounded  and  his  eyes  lighted  with  hope, 
but  it  always  turned  out  that  the  Colonel  was  merely  on  the 
scent  of  some  vast,  undefined  landed  speculation — although 
he  was  customarily  able  to  say  that  he  w^as  nearer  to  the  all- 
necessary ingredient  than  ever,  and  could  almost  name  the 
hour  when  success  would  dawn.  And  then  Washington’s 
heart  would  sink  again  and  a sigh  would  tell  when  it  touched 
bottom. 

About  this  time  a letter  came,  saying  that  Judge  Hawkins 
had  been  ailing  for  a fortnight,  and  was  now  considered  to 


MISFORTUNES  PROVE  BLESSINGS  IN  DISGUISE.  95 


be  seriously  ill.  It  was  thought  best  that  Washington  should 
come  home.  The  news  filled  him  with  grief,  for  he  loved 
and  honored  his  father ; the  Boswells  were  touched  by  the 
youth’s  sorrow,  and  even  the  General  unbent  and  said  en- 
couraging things  to  him. — There  w^as  balm  in  this ; but  when 


CONSOLATION. 


Louise  bade  him  good-bye,  and  shook  his  hand  and  said, 
Don’t  be  cast  down — it  will  all  come  out  right — I know  it 
will  all  come  out  right,”  it  seemed  a blessed  thing  to  be  in 
misfortune,  and  the  tears  that  welled  up  to  his  eyes  were  the 
messengers  of  an  adoring  and  a grateful  heart ; and  when 
the  girl  saw  them  and  answering  tears  came  into  her  own 
eyes,  Washington  could  hardly  contain  the  excess  of  happi- 
ness that  poured  into  the  cavities  of  his  breast  that  were  so 
lately  stored  to  the  roof  with  grief. 

All  the  way  home  he  nursed  his  woe  and  exalted  it.  He 
pictured  himself  as  she  must  be  picturing  him : a noble, 
struggling  young  spirit  persecuted  by  misfortune,  but 
bravely  and  patiently  waiting  in  the  shadow  of  a dread  calamity 


96 


NIGHT  WATCHES. 


and  preparing  to  meet  the  blow  as  became  one  who  was 
all  too  used  to  hard  fortune  and  the  pitiless  buffetings  of  fate. 
These  thoughts  made  him  weep,  and  weep  more  broken- 
heartedly  than  ever ; and  he  wished  that  she  could  see  his 
sufferings  now. 

There  was  nothing  significant  in  the  fact  that  Louise, 
dreamy  and  distraught,  stood  at  her  bedroom  bureau  that 
night,  scribbling  ‘‘Washington”  here  and  there  over  a sheet 
of  paper.  But  there  was  something  significant  in  the  fact 
that  she  scratched  the  word  out  every  time  she  wrote  it ; 
examined  the  erasure  critically  to  see  if  anybody  could  guess 
at  what  the  word  had  been ; then  buried  it  under  a maze  of 
obliterating  lines ; and  finally,  as  if  still  unsatisfied,  burned  the 
paper. 

When  Washington  reached  home,  he  recognized  at  once 
how  serious  his  father’s  case  was.  The  darkened  room,  the 
labored  breathing  and  occasional  moanings  of  the  patient,, 
the  tip-toeing  of  the  attendants  and  their  whispered  consulta- 
tions, were  full  of  sad  meaning.  For  three  or  four  nights 
Mrs.  Hawkins  and  Laura  had  been  watching  by  the  bedside ; 
Clay  had  arrived,  preceding  Washington  by  one  day,  and  he 
was  now  added  to  the  corps  of  watchers.  Mr.  Hawkins 
would  have  none  but  these  three,  though  neighborly  assist- 
ance was  offered  by  old  friends.  From  this  time  forth  three- 
hour  watches  were  instituted,  and  day  and  night  the  watch- 
ers kept  their  vigils.  By  degrees  Laura  and  her  mother  began 
to  show  wear,  but  neither  of  them  would  yield  a minute  of 
their  tasks  to  Clay. — He  ventured  once  to  let  the  midnight 
hour  pass  without  calling  Laura,  but  he  ventured  no  more ; 
there  was  that  about  her  rebuke  when  he  tried  to  explain, 
that  taught  him  that  to  let  her  sleep  when  she  might  be  min- 
istering to  her  father’s  needs,  was  to  rob  her  of  moments  that 
were  priceless  in  her  eyes ; he  perceived  that  she  regarded  it 
as  a privilege  to  watch,  not  a burden.  And  he  had  noticed, 
also,  that  when  midnight  struck,  the  patient  turned  his  eyes 
toward  the  door,  with  an  expectancy  in  them  which  presently 
grew  into  a longing  but  brightened  into  contentment  as  n 


DEATH  AT  THE  DOOR.  ^ 

as  the  door  opened  and  Laura  appeared.  And  he  did  not 
need  Laura’s  rebuke  when  he  heard  his  father  say : 

‘‘  Clay  is  good,  and  you  are  tired,  poor  child ; but  I wanted 
you  so.” 

Clay  is  not  good,  father — he  did  not  call  me.  I would 
not  have  treated  him  so.  How  could  you  do  it.  Clay  ? ” 

Clay  begged  forgiveness  and  promised  not  to  break  faith 
again ; and  as  he  betook  him  to  his  bed,  he  said  to  himself, 
‘‘  It’s  a steadfast  little  soul ; whoever  thinks  he  is  doing  the 
Duchess  a kindness  by  intimating  that  she  is  not  sufficient  for 
any  undertaking  she  puts  her  hand  to,  makes  a mistake ; and 
if  I did  not  know  it  before,  I know  now  that  there  are  surer 
ways  of  pleasing  her  than  by  trying  to  lighten  her  labor  when 
that  labor  consists  in  wearing  herself  out  for  the  sake  of  a 
person  she  loves.” 

A week  drifted  by,  and  all  the  while  the  patient  sank  lower 
and  lower.  The  night  drew  on  that  was  to  end  all  suspense. 
It  was  a wintry  one.  The  darkness  gathered,  the  snow  was 
falling,  the  wind  wailed  plaintively  about  the  house  or  shook 
it  with  fitful  gusts.  The  doctor  had  paid  his  last  visit  and 
gone  away  with  that  dismal  remark  to  the  nearest  friend  of 
the  family  that  he  ‘‘  believed  there  was  nothing  more  that  he 
could  do  ” — a remark  which  is  always  overheard  by  some  one 
it  is  not  meant  for  and  strikes  a lingering  half -conscious  hope 
dead  with  a withering  shock ; the  medicine  phials  had  been 
removed  from  the  bedside  and  put  out  of  sight,  and  all  things 
made  orderly  and  meet  for  the  solemn  event  that  was  impend- 
ing; the  patient,  with  closed  eyes,  lay  scarcely  breathing; 
the  watchers  sat  by  and  wiped  the  gathering  damps  from  his 
forehead  while  the  silent  tears  flowed  down  their  faces ; the 
deep  hush  was  only  interrupted  by  sobs  from  the  children, 
grouped  about  the  bed. 

After  a time, — it  was  toward  midnight  .now — Mr.  Hawkins 
roused  out  of  a doze,  looked  about  him  and  was  evidently 
trying  to  speak.  Instantly  Laura  lifted  his  head  and  in  a 
failing  voice  he  said,  while  something  of  the  old  light  shone 
in  his  eyes : 

“Wife — children — come  nearer — nearer.  The  darkness 

n- 


98 


THE  OLD  FAITH  STILL  TRIUMPHANT. 


grows.  Let  me  see  yon  all,  once  more.” 

The  group  closed  together  at  the  bedside,  and  their  tears 
and  sobs  came  now  without  restraint. 

“I  am  leaving  you  in  cruel  poverty.  I have  been — so 
foolish — so  short-sighted.  But  courage  ! A better  day  is — 
is  coming,  l^ever  lose  sight  of  the  Tennessee  Land  1 Be 
wary.  There  is  wealth  stored  up  for  you  there — wealth  that 
is  boundless ! The  children  shall  hold  up  their  heads  with 
the  best  in  the  land,  yet.  Where  are  the  papers? — Have 
you  got  the  papers  safe  ? Show  them — show  them  to  me  ! ” 
Under  his  strong  excitement  his  voice  had  gathered  power 
and  his  last  sentences  were  spoken  with  scarcely  a perceptible 
halt  or  hindrance.  With  an  effort  he  had  raised  himself 
almost  without  assistance  to  a sitting  posture.  But  now  the 


THE  DYING  FATHER. 

fire  faded  out  of  his  eyes  and  he  fell  back  exhausted.  The 
papers  were  brouglit  and  Iield  before  him,  and  the  answering 
smile  that  flitted  across  his  face  showed  that  he  was  satisfied. 
He  closed  his  eyes,  and  the  signs  of  approaching  dissolution 


ALL  OVER. 


multiplied  rapidly.  He  lay  almost  motionless  for  a little 
Tvliile,  then  suddenly  partly  raised  his  head  and  looked  about 
him  as  one  who  peers  into  a dim  uncertain  light.  He  mut- 
tered : 

“ Gone  ? Ho — I see  you — still.  It  is — it  is — over.  But 
you  are — safe.  Safe.  The  Ten ” 

The  voice  died  out  in  a whisper;  the  sentence  was  never 
finished.  The  emaciated  fingers  began  to  jiick  at  the  cover- 
let, a fatal  sign.  After  a time  there  were  no  sounds  but  the 
cries  of  the  mourners  within  and  the  gusty  turmoil  of  the 
wind  without.  Laura  had  bent  down  and  kissed  her  father’s 
lips  as  the  spirit  left  the  body  ; but  she  did  not  sob,  or  utter 
any  ejaculation ; her  tears  fiowed  silently.  Then  she  closed 
the  dead  eyes,  and  crossed  the  hands  upon  the  breast ; after 
a season,  she  kissed  the  forehead  reverently,  drew  the  sheet 
up  over  the  face,  and  then  walked  apart  and  sat  down  with 
the  look  of  one  who  is  done  with  life  and  has  no  further 
hiterest  in  its  joys  and  sorrows,  its  hopes  or  its  ambitions. 
Olay  buried  his  face  in  the  coverlet  of  the  bed ; when  the 
ether  children  and  the  mother  realized  that  death  was  indeed 
come  at  last,  they  threw  themselves  into  each  others’  arms 
and  gave  way  to  a frenzy  of  grief. 


CHAPTER  X. 


— Okarbigalo : “ Kia  pannigatit  ? Assarsara ! uamnut  nevsoingoaraa 

Mo.  Agleg.  Siurdl.  24.  23. 

NcDtah  nuttaunes,  natwontash 
Kukkeihtash,  wonk  yeuyeu 
Wanaanura  kummissinninnumog 
Kak  Koosh  week  pannuppu. 

— La  Giannetta  rispose : Madama,  voi  dalla  poverta  di  mio  padre  togliendomJ^ 

eome  figliuola  cresciuta  m’avete,  e per  questo  agui  vostro  piacer  far  dovrei 

Boccacio^  Decam.  Giom.  2,  Nov.  6. 

O^^LY  two  or  three  days  had  elapsed  since  the  funeral, 
when  something  happened  which  was  to  change  the 
drift  of  Laura’s  life  somewhat,  and  influence  in  a greater  or 
lesser  degree  the  formation  of  her  character. 

Major  Lackland  had  once  been  a man  of  note  in  the  State 
— a man  of  extraordinary  natural  ability  and  as  extraordinary 
learning.  He  had  been  universally  trusted  and  honored  in 
his  day,  but  had  finally  fallen  into  misfortune ; while  serving 
his  third  term  in  Congress,  and  while  upon  the  point  of  being: 
elevated  to  the  Senate — which  was  considered  the  summit  of 
earthly  aggrandizement  in  those  days — he  had  yielded  to 
temptation,  when  in  distress  for  money  wherewith  to  save 
his  estate,  and  sold  his  vote.  His  crime  was  discovered,  and 
his  fall  followed  instantly.  Hothing  could  reinstate  him  in 
the  confidence  of  the  people,  his  ruin  was  irretrievable — his 
disgrace  complete.  All  doors  were  closed  against  him,  all 
men  avoided  him.  After  years  of  skulking  retirement  and 
dissipation,  death  had  relieved  him  of  his  troubles  at  last,  and 
his  funeral  followed  close  upon  that  of  Mr.  Hawkins.  He 
died  as  he  had  latterly  lived — wholly  alone  and  friendless. 
He  had  no  relatives — or  if  he  had  they  did  not  acknowledge 
him.  The  coroner’s  jury  found  certain  memoranda  upon  hia 

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‘■"I 


LAURA  SEARCHING  FOR  EVIDENCES  OF  HER  BIRTH. 


SEARCH  FOR  A FATHER. 


101 


1?ody  and  about  the  premises  which  revealed  a fact  not  sus- 
pected by  the  villagers  before — viz.,  that  Laura  was  not  the 
•child  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hawkins. 

The  gossips  were  soon  at  work.  They  were  but  little 
hampered  by  the  fact  that  the  memoranda  referred  to  betrayed 
nothing  but  the  bare  circumstance  that  Laura’s  real  parents 
were  unknown,  and  stopped  there.  So  far  from  being 
hampered  by  this,  the  gossips  seemed  to  gain  all  the  more 
freedom  from  it.  They  supplied  all  the  missing  information 
themselves^  ll^^y  filled  up  all  the  blanks.  The  town  soon 
teemed  with  histories  of  Laura’s  origin  and  secret  history,  no 
two  versions  precisely  alike,  but  all  elaborate,  exhaustive, 
mysterious  and  interesting,  and  all  agreeing  in  one  vital  par- 
ticular— to  wit,  that  there  was  a suspicious  cloud  about  her 
birth,  not  to  say  a disreputable  one. 

Laura  began  to  encounter  cold  looks,  averted  eyes  and 
peculiar  nods  and  gestures  which  perplexed  her  beyond 
measure ; but  presently  the  pervading  gossip  found  its  way 
to  her,  and  she  understood  them  then.  Her  pride  was  stung. 
She  was  astonished,  and  at  first  incredulous.  She  was  about 
to  ask  her  mother  if  there  was  any  truth  in  these  reports,  but 
upon  second  thought  held  her  peace.  She  soon  gathered 
that  Major  Lackland’s  memoranda  seemed  to  refer  to  letters 
which  had  passed  between  himself  and  Judge  Hawkins.  She 
shaped  her  course  without  difficulty  the  day  that  that  hint 
reached  her. 

That  night  she  sat  in  her  room  till  all  was  still,  and  then 
she  stole  into  the  garret  and  began  a search.  She  rummaged 
long  among  boxes  of  musty  papers  relating  to  business  mat- 
ters of  no  interest  to  her,  but  at  last  she  found  several  bun- 
dles of  letters.  One  bundle  was  marked  private,”  and  in 
that  she  found  what  she  wanted.  She  selected  six  or  eight 
letters  from  the  package  and  began  to  devour  their  contents, 
heedless  of  the  cold. 

By  the  dates,  these  letters  were  from  five  to  seven  years 
old.  They  were  all  from  Major  Lackland  to  Mr.  Hawkins. 
The  substance  of  them  was,  that  some  one  in  the  east  had 


102 


WHO  AM  I ? 


been  inquiring  of  Major  Lackland  about  a lost  child  and  its- 
parents,  and  that  it  was  conjectured  that  the  child  might  be 
Laura. 

Evidently  some  of  the  letters  were  missing,  for  the  name 
of  the  inquirer  was  not  mentioned ; there  was  a casual  refer- 
ence to  “ this  handsome-featured  aristocratic  gentleman,”  as 
if  the  reader  and  the  writer  were  accustomed  to  speak  of  him 
and  knew  who  was  meant. 

In  one  letter  the  Major  said  he  agreed  with  Mr.  Hawkins 
that  the  inquirer  seemed  not  altogether  on  the  wrong  track 
but  he  also  agreed  that  it  would  be  best  to  keep  quiet  until 
more  convincing  developments  were  forthcoming. 

Another  letter  said  that  “ the  poor  soul  broke  completely 
down  when  he  saw  Laura’s  picture,  and  declared  it  must  be 
she.” 

Still  another  said, 

“ He  seems  entirely  alone  in  the  world,  and  his  heart  is  so  wrapped  up  in  this 
thing  that  I believe  that  if  it  proved  a false  hope,  it  would  kill  him ; I have  per- 
suaded him  to  wait  a little  while  and  go  west  when  I go.” 

Another  letter  had  this  paragraph  in  it : 

“ He  is  better  one  day  and  worse  the  next,  and  is  out  of  his  mind  a good  deal 
of  the  time.  Lately  his  case  has  developed  a something  which  is  a wonder  to 
the  hired  nurses,  but  which  will  not  be  much  of  a marvel  to  you  if  you  have  read 
medical  philosophy  much.  It  is  this  : his  lost  memory  returns  to  him  when  he 
is  delirious,  and  goes  away  again  when  he  is  himself — -just  as  old  Canada  Joe 
used  to  talk  the  French  patois  of  his  boyhood  in  the  delirium  of  typhus  fever, 
though  he  could  not  do  it  when  his  mind  was  clear.  Now  this  poor  gentleman’s 
memory  has  always  broken  down  before  he  reached  the  explosion  of  the  steamer;, 
he  could  only  remember  starting  up  the  river  with  his  wife  and  child,  and  he  had 
an  idea  that  there  was  a race,  but  he  was  not  certain ; he  could  not  name  the- 
boat  he  was  on  ; there  was  a dead  blank  of  a month  or  more  that  supplied  not  an 
item  to  his  recollection.  It  was  not  for  me  to  assist  him,  of  course.  But  now 
in  his  delirium  it  all  comes  out : the  names  of  the  boats,  every  incident  of  the 
explosion,  and  likewise  the  details  of  his  astonishing  escape — that  is,  up  to  where, 
just  as  a yawl-boat  was  approaching  him  (he  was  clinging  to  the  starboard  wheel, 
of  the  burning  wreck  at  the  time),  a falling  timber  struck  him  on  the  head.  But 
I will  write  out  his  wonderful  escape  in  full  to-morrow  or  next  day.  Of  course- 
the  physicians  will  not  let  me  tell  him  now  that  our  Laura  is  indeed  his  child — -' 
that  must  come  later,  when  his  health  is  thoroughly  restored.  His  case  is  uot> 
considered  dangerous  at  all;  he  will  recover  presently,  the  doctors  say.  But 
they  insist  that  he  must  travel  a little  when  he  gets  well — they  recommend  a. 


MYSTERY  AND  ROMANCE. 


103 


short  sea  voyage,  and  they  say  he  can  be  persuaded  to  try  it  if  we  continue  to 
keep  him  in  ignorance  and  promise  to  let  him  see  L.  as  soon  as  he  returns.” 

The  letter  that  bore  the  latest  date  of  all,  contained  this 
clause : 

“It  is  the  most  unaccountable  thing  in  the  world;  the  mystery  remains  as 
impenetrable  as  ever ; I have  hunted  high  and  low  for  him,  and  inquired  of  every- 
body, but  in  vain ; all  trace  of  him  ends  at  that  hotel  in  New  York  ; I never  have 
seen  or  heard  of  him  since,  up  to  this  day ; he  could  hardly  have  sailed,  for  his 
name  does  not  appear  upon  the  books  of  any  shipping  office  in  New  York  or 
Boston  or  Baltimore.  How  fortunate  it  seems,  now,  that  we  kept  this  thing  to 
ourselves ; Laura  still  has  a father  in  you,  and  it  is  better  for  her  that  we  drop 
this  subject  here  forever.” 

That  was  all.  Random  remarks  here  and  there,  being 
pieced  together  gave  Laura  a vague  impression  of  a man  of 
fine  presence,  about  forty-three  or  forty-five  years  of  age, 
with  dark  hair  and  eyes,  and  a slight  limp  in  his  walk — it 
was  not  stated  which  leg  was  defective.  And  this  indistinct 
shadow  represented  her  father.  She  made  an  exhaustive 
search  for  the  missing  letters,  but  found  none.  They  had 
probably  been  burned ; and  she  doubted  not  that  the  ones 
she  had  ferreted  out  would  have  shared  the  same  fate  if  Mr. 
Hawkins  had  not  been  a dreamer,  void  of  method,  whose 
mind  was  perhaps  in  a state  of  confiagration  over  some  bright 
new  speculation  when  he  received  them. 

She  sat  long,  with  the  letters  in  her  lap,  thinking — and 
unconsciously  freezing.  She  felt  like  a lost  person  who  has 
traveled  down  a long  lane  in  good  hope  of  escape,  and,  just 
as  the  night  descends  finds  his  progress  barred  by  a bridge- 
less river  whose  further  shore,  if  it  has  one,  is  lost  in  the 
darkness.  If  she  could  only  have  found  these  letters  a month 
sooner ! That  was  her  thought.  But  now  the  dead  had 
carried  their  secrets  with  them.  A dreary  melancholy  set- 
tled down  upon  her.  An  undefined  sense  of  injury  crept 
into  her  heart.  She  grew  very  miserable. 

She  had  just  -readied  the  romantic  age — the  age  when 
there  is  a sad  sweetness,  a dismal  comfort  to  a girl  to  find  out 
that  there  is  a mystery  connected  with  her  birth,  which  no 
other  piece  of  good  luck  can  afibrd.  She  had  more  than  her 


101 


UNEXPECTEDLY  A HEROINE. 


rightful  share  of  practical  good  sense,  hut  still  she  was 
human ; and  to  be  human  is  to  have  one’s  little  modicum  of 
romance  secreted  away  in  one’s  composition.  One  never 
ceases  to  make  a hero  of  one’s  self,  (in  private,)  during  life, 
but  only  alters  the  style  of  his  heroism  from  time  to  time  as 
the  drifting  years  belittle  certain  gods  of  his  admiration  and 
raise  up  others  in  their  stead  that  seem  greater. 

The  recent  wearing  days  and  nights  of  watching,  and  the 
wasting  grief  that  had  possessed  her,  combined  with  the  pro- 
found de^^ression  that  naturally  came  with  the  reaction  of 
idleness,  made  Laura  peculiarly  susceptible  at  this  time  to 
romantic  impressions.  She  was  a heroine,  now,  with  a 
mysterious  father  somewhere.  She  could  not  really  tell 
whether  she  wanted  to  find  him  and  spoil  it  all  or  not;  but 
still  all  the  traditions  of  romance  pointed  to  the  making  the 
attempt  as  the  usual  and  necessary  course  to  follow  ; there- 
fore she  would  some  day  begin  the  search  wdien  opportunity 
should  offer. 

Now  a former  thought  struck  her — she  would  speak  to 
Mrs.  Hawkins.  And  naturally  enough  Mrs.  Hawkins  ap- 
peared on  the  stage  at  that  moment. 

She  said  she  knew  all — she  knew  that  Laura  had  discov- 
ered the  secret  that  Mr.  Hawkins,  the  elder  children.  Col. 
Sellers  and  herself  had  kept  so  long  and  so  faithfully ; and 
she  cried  and  said  that  now  that  troubles  had  begun  they 
would  never  end  ; her  daughter’s  love  would  wean  itself  away 
from  her  and  her  heart  would  break.  Her  grief  so  wrought 
upon  Laura  that  the  girl  almost  forgot  her  own  troubles  for 
the  moment  in  her  compassion  for  her  mother’s  distress. 
Finally  Mrs.  Hawkins  said  : 

Speak  to  me,  child — do  not  forsake  me.  Forget  all  this 
miserable  talk.  Say  I am  your  mother  ! — I have  loved  you 
so  long,  and  there  is  no  other.  I am  your  mother,  in  the 
sight  of  God,  and  nothing  shall  ever  take  you  from  me  ! ” 

All  barriers  fell,  before  this  appeal.  Laura  put  her  arms 
about  her  mother’s  neck  and  said : 

‘^You  my  mother,  and  always  shall  be,.  We  will  be 


OLD  TIES  UNRUPTUKED. 


105 


:as  we  Lave  always  been ; and  neither  this  foolish  talk  nor  any 
other  thing  shall  part  ns  or  make  us  less  to  each  other  than 
we  are  this  hour.” 

There  was  no  longer  any  sense  of  separation  or  estrange- 
ment between  them.  Indeed  their  love  seemed  more  perfect 


EVER  TRUE. 


now  than  it  had  ever  been  before.  By  and  by  they  went 
down  stairs  and  sat  by  the  fire  and  talked  long  and  earnestly 
about  Laura’s  history  and  the  letters.  But  it  transpired  that 
Mrs.  Hawkins  had  never  known  of  this  correspondence 
between  her  husband  and  Major  Lackland.  With  his  usual 
consideration  for  his  wife,  Mr.  Hawkins  had  shielded  her 
from  the  worry  the  matter  would  have  caused  her. 

Laura  went  to  bed  at  last  with  a mind  that  had  gained 
largely  in  tranquility  and  had  lost  correspondingly  in  mor- 
bid romantic  exaltation.  She  was  pensive,  the  next  day,  and 
subdued ; but  that  was  not  matter  for  remark,  for  she  did 
not  differ  from  the  mournful  friends  about  her  in  that  res- 
pect. Clay  and  Washington  were  the  same  loving  and 
admiring  brothers  now  that  they  had  always  been.  The 


106 


VILLAGE  GOSSIP. 


great  secret  was  new  to  some  of  the  younger  children,  bnt 
their  love  suffered  no  change  under  the  wonderful  revelation. 

It  is  barely  possible  that  things  might  have  presently  set- 
tled down  into  their  old  rut  and  the  mystery  have  lost  the  bulk 
of  its  romantic  sublimity  in  Laura’s  eyes,  if  the  village  gos- 
sips could  have  quieted  down.  But  they  could  not  quiet  down 
and  they  did  not.  Day  after  day  they  called  at  the  house, 
ostensibly  upon  visits  of  condolence,  and  they  pumped  away 
at  the  mother  and  the  children  without  seeming  to  know  that 
their  questionings  were  in  bad  taste.  They  meant  no  harm 
— they  only  wanted  to  know.  Villagers  always  want  to  know. 

The  family  fought  shy  of  the  questionings,  and  of  course 
that  was  high  testimony — “ if  the  Duchess  was  respectably 
born,  why  didn’t  they  come  out  and  prove  it  ? — why  did  thej 
stick  to  that  poor  thin  story  about  picking  her  up  out  of  a 
steamboat  explosion  ? ” 

Under  this  ceaseless  persecution,  Laura’s  morbid  self-com- 
muning was  renewed.  At  night  the  day’s  contribution  of 
detraction,  innuendo  and  malicious  conjecture  would  be  can- 
vassed in  her  mind,  and  then  she  would  drift  into  a course  of 
thinking.  As  her  thoughts  ran  on,  the  indignant  tears  would 
spring  to  her  eyes,  and  she  would  spit  out  fierce  little  ejacu- 
lations at  intervals.  But  finally  she  would  grow  calmer  and 
say  some  comforting  disdainful  thing — something  like  this : 

‘‘But  who  are  they? — Animals!  What  are  tlieir  opinions, 
to  me?  Let  them  talk — I will  not  stoop  to  be  affected  by  it. 

I could  hate . Xonsense — nobody  I care  for  or  in  any 

way  respect  is  changed  toward  me,  I fancy.” 

She  may  have  supposed  she  was  thinking  of  many  indi- 
viduals, but  it  was  not  so — she  was  thinking  of  only  one. 
And  her  heart  warmed  somewhat,  too,  the  while.  One  day 
a friend  overheard  a conversation  like  this : — and  naturally 
came  and  told  her  all  about  it : 

“Hed,  they  say  you  don’t  go  there  any  more.  How  is 
that?” 

“Well,  I don’t ; but  I tell  you  it’s  not  because  I don’t  want 
to  and  it’s  not  because  / think  it  is  any  matter  who  her- 
father  was  or  who  he  wasn’t,  either ; it’s  only  on  account  of 


SENTIMENT  AND  SAUSAGES. 


lor 


this  talk,  talk,  talk.  I think  she  is  a fine  girl  every  way,  and. 
so  would  you  if  you  knew  her  as  well  as  I do ; hut  you  know 
how  it  is  when  a girl  once  gets  talked  about — it’s  all  up  with 
her — the  world  won’t  ever  let  her  alone,  after  that.” 

The  only  comment  Laura  made  upon  this  revelation,  was 

“ Then  it  appears  that  if  this  trouble  had  not  occurred  I 
could  have  had  the  happiness  of  Mr.  Ned  Thurston’s  serious 
attentions.  He  is  well  favored  in  person,  and  well  liked,  too,. 
I believe,  and  comes  of  one  of  the  first  families  of  the  vil- 
lage. He  is  prosperous,  too,  I hear;  has  been  a doctor  a 
year,  now,  and  has  had  two  patients — no,  three,  I think ; yes,, 
it  was  three.  I attended  their  funerals.  Well,  other  people- 
have  hoped  and  been  disappointed  ; I am  not  alone  in  that.. 
I wish  you  could  stay  to  dinner,  Maria — we  are  going  to  have 
sausages;  and  besides,  I wanted  to  talk  to  you  about  Hawk- 
eye  and  make  you  promise  to  come  and  see  us  when  we  are 
settled  there.” 

But  Maria  could  not  stay.  She  had  come  to  mingle  roman- 
tic tears  with  Laura’s  over  the  lover’s  defection  and  had  found 
herself  dealing  with  a heart  that  could  not  rise  to  an  appre- 
ciation of  affliction  because  its  interest  was  all  centred  in 
sausages. 

But  as  soon  as  Maria  was  gone,  Laura  stamped  her  expres- 
sive foot  and  said : 

“ The  coward  ! Are  all  books  lies  ? I thought  he  would 
fly  to  the  front,  and  be  brave  and  noble,  and  stand  up  for  me- 
against  all  the  world,  and  defy  my  enemies,  and  wither  these 
gossips  with  his  scorn!  Poor  crawling  thing,  let  him  go- 
I do  begin  to  despise  this  world  ! ” 

She  lapsed  into  thought.  Presently  she  said : 

If  the  time  ever  comes,  and  I get  a chance.  Oh,  I’ll ” 

She  could  not  find  a word  that  was  strong  enough,  perhaps. 
By  and  by  she  said  : 

“Well,  I am  glad  of  it — I’m  glad  of  it.  I never  cared 
anything  for  him  anyway  1 ” 

And  then,  with  small  consistency,  she  cried  a little,  and 
patted  her  foot  more  indignantly  than  ever. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

TWO  months  had  gone  by  and  the  Hawkins  family  were 
domiciled  in  Hawkeye.  Washington  was  at  work  in  the 
Teal  estate  office  again,  and  was  alternately  in  paradise  or  the 
other  place  just  as  it  happened  that  Louise  was  gracious  to 
him  or  seemingly  indifferent — because  indifference  or  pre- 
occupation could  mean  nothing  else  than  that  she  was  think- 
ing of  some  other  young  person.  Col.  Sellers  had  asked  him 
several  times,  to  dine  with  him,  when  he  first  returned  to 
Hawkeye,  but  Washington,  for  no  particular  reason,  had  not 
•accepted.  No  particular  reason  except  one  which  he  preferred 
to  keep  to  himself — viz.  that  he  could  not  bear  to  be  away 
from  Louise.  It  occurred  to  him,  now,  that  the  Colonel  had 
Tiot  invited  him  lately — could  he  be  offended  ? He  resolved 
to  go  that  very  day,  and  give  the  Colonel  a pleasant  surprise. 
It  was  a good  idea ; especially  as  Louise  had  absented  herself 
from  breakfast  that  morning,  and  torn  his  heart ; he  would 
tear  hers,  now,  and  let  her  see  how  it  felt. 

The  Sellers  family  wdl’e  just  starting  to  dinner  when 
l^ashington  burst  upon  them  with  his  surprise.  For  an 
instant  the  Colonel  looked  nonplussed,  and  just  a bit  uncom- 
fortable ; and  Mrs.  Sellers  looked  actually  distressed  ; but  the 
next  moment  the  head  of  the  house  was  himself  again,  and 
exclaimed : 

All  right,  my  boy,  all  right — always  glad  to  see  you — - 

108 


A DINNER  PARTY. 


109* 


always  glad  to  hear  your  voice  and  take  you  by  the  hand» 
Don’t  wait  for  special  invitations — that’s  all  nonsense  among, 
friends.  Just  come  whenever  you  can,  and  come  as  often, 
as  you  can — the  oftener  the  better.  You  can’t  please 
us  any  better  than  that,  Washington;  the  little  woman  will 
tell  you  so  herself.  We  don’t  pretend  to  style.  Plain  folks,, 
you  know — plain  folks.  Just  a plain  family  dinner,  but  such 
as  it  is,  our  friends  are  always  welcome,  I reckon  you  know 
that  yourself,  Washington.  Kim  along,  children,  run  along; 
Lafayette,*  stand  off  the  cat’s  tail,  child,  can’t  you  see  what 
you’re  doing? — Come,  come,  come,  Koderick  Dhu,  it  isn’t 
nice  for  little  boys  to  hang  onto  young  gentlemen’s  coat  tails 
— but  never  mind  him,  Washington,  he’s  full  of  spirits  and 
don’t  mean  any  harm.  Children  will  be  children,  you  know. 
Take  the  chair  next  to  Mrs.  Sellers,  Washington — tut,  tut,. 
Marie  Antoinette,  let  your  brother  have  the  fork  if  he  wants 
it,  you  are  bigger  than  he  is.” 

Washington  contem^ilated  the  banquet,  and  wondered  if  he- 
were  in  his  right  mind.  Was  this  the  plain  family  dinner? 
And  was  it  all  present  ? It  was  soon  apparent  that  this  was- 
indeed  the  dinner : it  was  all  on  the  table : it  consisted  of 
abundance  of  clear,  fresh  water,  and  a basin  of  raw  turnips — 
nothing  more. 

Washington  stole  a glance  at  Mrs.  Sellers’s  face,  and 
would  have  given  the  world,  the  next  moment,  if  he  could 
have  spared  her  that.  The  poor  woman’s  face  was  crimson,, 
and  the  tears  stood  in  her  eyes.  Washington  did  not  know 
what  to  do.  He  wished  he  had  never  come  there  and  spied 
out  this  cruel  poverty  and  brought  pain  to  that  poor  little 
lady’s  heart  and  shame  to  her  cheek ; but  he  was  there,  and 
there  was  no  escape.  Col.  Sellers  hitched  back  his  coat 

*In  those  old  days  the  average  man  called  his  children  after  his  most  revered 
literary  and  historical  idols ; consequently  there  was  hardly  a family,  at  least  in 
the  West,  but  had  a Washington  in  it — and  also  a Lafayette,  a Franklin,  and 
six  or  eight  sounding  names  from  Byron,  Scott,  and  the  Bible,  if  the  offspring- 
held  out.  To  visit  such  a fimily,  was  to  find  one’s  self  confronted  by  a congress 
made  up  of  representatives  of  the  imperial  myths  and  the  majestic  dead  of  all 
the  ages.  There  was  something  thrilling  about  it,  to  a stranger,  not  to  say  aw© 
inspiring. 


110  PLAIN  POOD  AND  NO  EMBELLISHMENTS. 

sleeves  airily  from  his  wrists  as  who  should  say  Now  for 
solid  enjoyment ! ” seized  a fork,  flourished  it  and  began  to 
harpoon  turnips  and  deposit  them  in  the  plates  before  him : 

“Let  me  help  you,  Washington — Lafayette  pass  this  plate 
to  Washington — ah,  well,  well,  my  boy,  things  are  looking 


A HEALTHY  MEAL. 

pretty  bright,  now,  I tell  yon.  Speculation — my ! the  whole 
atmosphere’s  full  of  money.  I would’nt  take  three  fortunes 
Lor  one  little  operation  I’ve  got  on  hand  now — have  anything 
■from  the  casters?  iMo?  Well,  you’re  right,  you’re  right. 
8ome  people  like  mustard  with  turnips,  but — now  there 
was  Baron  Poniatowski — Lord,  but  that  man  did  know 
how  to  live  ! — true  Pussian  you  know,  Bussian  to  the  back 
hone;  I say  to  my  wife,  give  me  a Bussian  every  time,  for  a 
table  comrade.  The  Baron  used  to  say,  ‘ Take  mustard. 
Sellers,  try  the  mustard, — a man  cavCt  know  what  turnips 
fire  in  perfection  without  mustard,  ’ but  I always  said,  ‘ IS  o, 
Baron,  I’m  a plain  man,  and  I want  my  food  plain — none  of 
your  embellishments  for  Beriah  Sellers — no  made  dishes  for 


EARLY  MALCOMB  TURNIPS. 

me ! And  it’s  the  best  way — high  living  kills  more  th^ 
cures  in  this  world,  yon  can  rest  assured  of  that.  Yes 
indeed,  Washington,  I’ve  got  one  little  operation  on  hand  that 
— take  some  more  water— help  yourself,  won’t  you  ?— help 
yourself,  there’s  plenty  of  it.— You’ll  find  it  pretty  good,  I 
guess.  How  does  that  fruit  strike  you  ? ” 

Washington,  said  he  did  not  know  that  he  had  ever  tasted 
better.  He  did  not  add  that  he  detested  turnips  even  when 
they  were  cooked — ^loathed  them  in  their  natural  state.  Ho, 
he  kept  this  to  himself,  and  praised  the  turnips  to  the  peril 
of  his  soul. 

‘‘  I thought  you’d  like  them.  Examine  them — examine 
them — they’ll  bear  it.  See  how  perfectly  firm  and  juicy  they 
are — tliey  can’t  start  any  like  them  in  this  part  of  the  coun- 
try, I can  tell  you.  These  are  from  Hew  Jersey — imported 
them  myself.  They  cost  like  sin,  too ; but  lord  bless  me,  I 
go  in  for  having  the  best  of  a thing,  even  if  it  does  cost  a lit- 
tle more — its  the  best  economy,  in  the  long  run.  These  are 
the  Early  Malcolm — it’s  a turnip  that  can’t  be  produced 
except  in  just  one  orchard,  and  the  supply  never  is  up  to  the 
demand.  Take  some  more  water,  Washington — you  can’t 
drink  too  much  water  with  fruit — all  the  doctors  say  that. 
The  plague  can’t  come  where  this  article  is,  my  boy !” 

“ Plague  ? What  plague 

‘‘  What  plague,  indeed  ? Why  the  Asiatic  plague  that 
nearly  depopulated  London  a couple  of  centuries  ago.” 

‘‘  But  how  does  that  concern  us  ? There  is  no  plague  here, 
i reckon.” 

Sh  ! I’ve  let  it  out ! Well,  never  mind — just  keep  it  to 
yourself.  Perhaps  I oughtn’t  said  anything,  but  its  hoitnd  to 
come  out  sooner  or  later,  so  what  is  the  odds  ? Old  McDow- 
ells wouldn’t  like  me  to — to — bother  it  all.  I’ll  just  tell  the 
whole  thing  and  let  it  go.  You  see,  I’ve  been  down  to  St. 
Louis,  and  I happened  to  run  across  old  Dr.  McDowells — 
thinks  the  world  of  me,  does  the  doctor.  He’s  a man  that 
keeps  himself  to  himself,  and  well  he  may,  for  he  knows  that 
he’s  got  a reputation  that  covers  the  whole  earth — he  won’t 
condescend  to  open  himself  out  to  many  people,  but  lord  bless 


HOW  TO  PREVENT  THE  PLAGUE. 


.e  and  I are  just  like  brothers  ; he  won’t  let  me  go  to 
hotel  when  I’m  in  the  city — says  I’m  the  only  man  that’s 
company  to  him,  and  I don’t  know  but  there’s  some  truth  in 
it,  too,  because  although  I never  like  to  glorify  myself  and 
make  a great  to-do  over  what  I am  or  what  I can  do  or  what 
I know,  I don’t  mind  saying  here  among  friends  that  I am 
better  read  up  in  most  sciences,  maybe,  than  the  general  run 
of  professional  men  in  these  days.  Well,  the  other  day  he 
let  me  into  a little  secret,  strictly  on  the  quiet,  about  this 
matter  of  the  plague. 

‘Wou  see  it’s  booming  right  along  in  our  direction — follows 
the  Gulf  Stream,  you  know,  just  as  all  those  epidemics  do, — 
and  within  three  months  it  will  be  just  waltzing  through  this 
land  like  a whirlwind  ! And  whoever  it  touches  can  make 
his  will  and  contract  for  the  funeral.  Well  you  can’t  cure  it^ 
you  know,  but  you  can  prevent  it.  How  ? Turnips  ! that’s 
it!  Turnips  and  water  1 Hothing  like  it  in  the  world,  old 
McDowells  says,  just  fill  yourself  up  two  or  three  times  a day,, 
and  you  can  snap  your  fingers  at  the  plague.  Sh  ! — keep  mum, 
but  just  you  confine  yourself  to  that  diet  and  you’re  all  right. 
I wouldn’t  have  old  McDowells  know  that  I told  about  it 
for  anything — he  never  would  speak  to  me  again.  Take  some 
more  water,  Washington — the  more  water  you  drink,  the 
better.  Here,  let  me  give  you  some  more  of  the  turnips. 
Ho,  no,  no,  now,  I insist.  There,  now.  Absorb  those.  They’re 
mighty  sustaining — brim  full  of  nutriment — all  the  medical 
books  say  so.  Just  eat  from  four  to  seven  good-sized  turnips- 
at  a meal,  and  drink  from  a pint  and  a half  to  a quart  of 
water,  and  then  just  sit  around  a couple  of  hours  and  let  them 
ferment.  You’ll  feel  like  a fighting  cock  next  day.” 

Fifteen  or  twenty  minutes  later  the  Colonel’s  tongue  was 
still  chattering  away — he  had  piled  up  several  future  fortunes 
out  of  several  incipient  “ operations  ” which  he  had  blundered 
into  within  the  past  week,  and  was  now  soaring  along  through 
some  brilliant  expectations  born  of  late  promising  experiments 
upon  the  lacking  ingredient  of  the  eye-water.  And  at  such 
a time  Washington  ought  to  have  been  a rapt  and  enthusi- 
astic listener,  but  he  was  not,  for  two  matters  disturbed  his 


EFFECTS  OF  THE  TURNIPS. 


113 


mind  and  distracted  his  attention.  One  was,  that  he  dis- 
covered, to  his  confusion  and  shame,  that  in  allowing  himself 
to  be  helped  a second  time  to  the  turnips,  he  had  robbed 
those  hungry  children.  He  had  not  needed  the  dreadful 
fruit,”  and  had  not  wanted  it ; and  when  he  saw  the  pathetic 
sorrow  in  their  faces  when  they  asked  for  more  and  there 
was  no  more  to  give  them,  he  hated  himself  for  his  stupidity 
and  pitied  the  famishing  young  things  with  all  his  heart.  The 
other  matter  that  disturbed  him  was  the  dire  inflation  that 
had  begun  in  his  stomach.  It  grew  and  grew,  it  became 
more  and  more  insupportable.  Evidently  the  turnips  were 
“ fermenting.”  He  forced  himself  to  sit  still  as  long  as  he 
could,  but  his  anguish  conquered  him  at  last. 

He  rose  in  the  midst  of  the  Colonel’s  talk  and  excused  him- 
self on  the  plea  of  a previous  engagement.  The  Colonel 
followed  him  to  the  door,  promising  over  and  over  again  that 
he  would  use  his  influence  to  get  some  of  the  Early  Malcolms 
for  him,  and  insisting  that  he  should  not  be  such  a stranger 
but  come  and  take  pot-luck  with  him  every  chance  he  got. 
Washington  was  glad  enough  to  get  away  and  feel  free  again. 
He  immediately  bent  his  steps  toward  home. 

In  bed  he  passed  an  hour  that  threatened  to  tnrn  his  hair 
gray,  and  then  a blessed  calm  settled  down  upon  him  that 
filled  his  heart  with  gratitude.  Weak  and  languid,  he  made 
shift  to  turn  himself  about  and  seek  rest  and  sleep ; and  as 
his  soul  hovered  upon  the  brink  of  unconciousness,  he  heaved 
a long,  deep  sigh,  and  said  to  himself  that  in  his  heart  he  had 
cursed  the  Colonel’s  preventive  of  rheumatism,  before,  and 
now  let  the  plague  come  if  it  must — he  was  done  with  pre- 
ventives ; if  ever  any  man  beguiled  him  with  turnips  and 
water  again,  let  him  die  the  death. 

If  he  dreamed  at  all  that  night,  no  gossiping  spirit  disturbed 
his  visions  to  whisper  in  his  ear  of  certain  matters  just  then 
in  bud  in  the  East,  more  than  a thousand  miles  away  that 
after  the  lapse  of  a few  years  would  develop  influences 
which  would  profoundly  affect  the  fate  and  fortunes  of  the 
Hawkins  familv. 

8- 


CHAPTER  Xn. 


V r. 

H,  it’s  easy  enough  to  make  a fortune,”  Henry  said. 

It  seems  to  be  easier  than  it  is,  I begin  to  think,” 
replied  Philip. 

“ Well,  why  don’t  you  go  into  something?  You’ll  never 
dig  it  out  of  the  Astor  Library.” 

If  there  be  any  place  and  time  in  the  world  where  and 
when  it  seems  easy  to  “ go  into  something  ” it  is  in  Broadway 
on  a spring  morning,  when  one  is  walking  city-ward,  and  has 
before  him  the  long  lines  of  palace-shops  with  an  occasional 
gpire  seen  through  the  soft  haze  that  lies  over  the  lower  town, 
and  hears  the  roar  and  hum  of  its  multitudinous  traffic. 

To  the  young  American,  here  or  elsewhere,  the  paths  to 
fortune  are  innumerable  and  all  open  ; there  is  invitation  in 
the  air  and  success  in  all  his  wide  horizon.  He  is  embarrassed 
which  to  choose,  and  is  not  unlikely  to  waste  years  in  dally- 
ing with  his  chances,  before  giving  himself  to  the  serious  tug 
and  strain  of  a single  object.  He  has  no  traditions  to  bind 
him  or  guide  him,  and  his  impulse  is  to  break  away  from 
the  occupation  his  father  has  followed,  and  make  a new  way 
for  himself. 

Philip  Sterling  used  to  say  that  if  he  should  seriously  set 
himself  for  ten  years  to  any  one  of  the  dozen  projects  that 
were  in  his  brain,  he  felt  that  he  could  be  a rich  man.  He 
wanted  to  be  rich,  he  had  a sincere  desire  for  a fortune,  but 
for  some  unaccountable  reason  he  hesitated  about  addressing 
himself  to  the  narrow  work  of  getting  it.  He  never  walked 
Broadway,  a part  of  its  tide  of  abundant  shifting  life, 

114 


Todtenb.  141. 17,4. 


rOOT  LIGHTS  AND  MUSIC. 


115 


without  feeling  something  of  the  flush  of  wealth,  and  uncon- 
sciously taking  the  elastic  step  of  one  well-to-do  in  this 
prosperous  world. 

Especially  at  night  in  the  crowded  theatre — Philip  was  too 
young  to  remember  the  old  Chambers’  Street  box,  where  the 
serious  Burton  led  his  hilarious  and  pagan  crew — in  the  inter- 
vals of  the  screaming  comedy,  when  the  orchestra  scraped 
lind  grunted  and  tooted  its  dissolute  tunes,  the  world  seemed 
full  of  opportunities  to  Philip,  and  his  heart  exulted  with  a 
conscious  ability  to  take  any  of  its  prizes  he  chose  to  pluck. 

Perhaps  it  was  the  swimming  ease  of  the  acting  on  the 
stage,  where  virtue  had  its  reward  in  three  easy  acts,  perhaps 
it  was  the  excessive  light  of  the  house,  or  the  music,  or  the 
buzz  of  the  excited  talk  between  acts,  perhaps  it  was  youth 
which  believed  everything,  but  for  some  reason  while  Philip 


PHILIP  AT  THEATRE. 


was  at  the  theatre  he  had  the  utmost  confldence  in  life  and 
his  ready  victory  in  it. 

Delightful  illusion  of  paint  and  tinsel  and  silk  attire,  of 
cheap  sentiment  and  high  and  mighty  dialogue!  Will  there 


116 


PHILIP  STERLING. 


not  always  be  rosin  enough  for  the  squeaking  fiddle-bow  ? 
Do  we  not  all  like  the  maudlin  hero,  who  is  sneaking  round 
the  right  entrance,  in  w’ait  to  steal  the  pretty  wife  of  his  ricb 
and  tyrannical  neighbor  from  the  paste-board  cottage  at  the 
left  entrance  ? and  when  he  advances  down  to  the  foot-lights 
and  defiantly  informs  the  audience  that,  ‘4ie  W'ho  lays 
his  hand  on  a woman  except  in  the  w^ay  of  kindness,”  do  we 
not  all  applaud  so  as  to  drown  the  rest  of  the  sentence  ? 

Philip  never  was  fortunate  enough  to  hear  what  would 
become  of  a man  who  should  lay  his  hand  on  a woman  wfith 
the  exception  named ; but  he  learned  afterwards  that  the 
woman  who  lays  her  hand  on  a man,  without  any  exception 
whatsoever,  is  ahvays  acquitted  by  the  jury. 

" The  fact  was,  though  Philip  Sterling  did  not  know  it,  that 
he  wanted  several  other  things  quite  as  much  as  he  w^anted 
wealth.  The  modest  fellow  wmuld  have  liked  fame  thrust 
upon  him  for  some  worthy  achievement ; it  might  be  for  a 
book,  or  for  the  skillful  management  of  some  great  newspaper, 
or  for  some  daring  expedition  like  that  of  Lt.  Strain  or  Dr. 
Kane.  He  w^as  unable  to  decide  exactly  what  it  should  be. 
Sometimes  he  thought  he  would  like  to  stand  in  a conspicuous 
pulpit  and  humbly  preach  the  gospel  of  repentance ; and  it 
even  crossed  his  mind  that  it  would  be  noble  to  give  himself 
to  a missionary  life  to  some  benighted  region,  where  the  date~ 
palm  grows,  and  the  nightingale’s  voice  is  in  tune,  and  the 
bul-bul  sings  on  the  olF  nights.  If  he  were  good  enough  he 
would  attach  himself  to  that  company  of  young  men  in  the 
Theological  Seminary,  who  W’ere  seeing  Kew  York  life  in 
preparation  for  the  ministry. 

Philip  was  a Hew  England  boy  and  had  graduated  at 
Yale  ; he  had  not  carried  ofi‘  with  him  all  the  learning  of  that 
venerable  institution,  but  he  knew  some  things  that  were 
not  in  the  regular  course  of  study.  A very  good  use  of  the 
English  language  and  considerable  knowledge  of  its  literature 
was  one  of  them ; he  could  sing  a song  very  well,  not  in  time 
to  be  sure,  but  wfith  enthusiasm ; he  could  make  a magnetic 
speech  at  a moment’s  notice  in  the  class  room,  the  debating 


AN  EXCELLENT  LAW  CLEEK. 


IIT 


society,  or  upon  any  fence  or  dry -goods  box  that  was  con- 
venient y he  could  lift  himself  by  one  arm,  and  do  the  giant 
swing  in  the  gymnasium ; lie  could  strike  out  from  his  left 


WHAT  PHILIP  LEARNED  AT  COLLEGE. 


shoulder ; he  could  handle  an  oar  like  a professional  and  pull 
stroke  in  a winning  race.  Philip  had  a good  appetite,  a sun- 
ny  temper,  and  a clear  hearty  laugh.  He  had  brown  hair, 
hazel  eyes  set  wide  apart,  a broad  but  not  high  forehead,  and 
a,  fresh  winning  face.  He  was  six  feet  high,  with  broad 
shoulders,  long  legs  and  a swinging  gait ; one  of  those  loose- 
jointed,  capable  fellows,  who  saunter  into  the  world  with  a 
free  air  and  usually  make  a stir  in  whatever  company  they 
enter. 

After  he  left  college  Philip  took  the  advice  of  friends  and 
i'i3ad  law.  Law  seemed  to  him  well  enough  as  a science,  but 
he  never  could  discover  a practical  case  where  it  appeared  to 
him  worth  while  to  go  to  law,  and  all  the  clients  who  stopped 
with  this  new  clerk  in  the  ante-room  of  the  law  office  where 
he  was  writing,  Philip  invariably  advised  to  settle — no  matter 
how,  but  settle— greatly  to  the  disgust  of  his  employer,  who 
knew  that  justice  between  man  and  man  could  only  be  attain- 
ed by  the  recognized  processes,  with  the  attendant  fees. 
Besides  Philip  hated  the  copying  of  pleadings,  and  he  was 
certain  that  a life  of  “ whereases  ” and  “ aforesaids  ” and 
whipping  the  devil  round  the  stump,  would  be  intolerable. 

His  pen  therefore,  and  whereas,  and  not  as  aforesaid, 
strayed  off  into  other  scribbling.  In  an  unfortunate  hour, 
he  had  two  or  three  papers  accepted  by  first-class  magazines, 
at  three  dollars  the  printed  page,  and,  behold,  his  vocation 
was  open  to  him.  He  would  make  his  mark  in  literature. 


118 


LITERARY  WORK. 


Life  has  no  moment  so  sweet  as  tliat  in  which  a young  man 
believes  himself  called  into  the  immortal  ranks  of  the  mas- 
ters of  literature.  It  is  such  a noble  ambition,  that  it  is  a 
pity  it  has  usually  such  a shallow  foundation. 

At  the  time  of  this  history,  Philip  had  gone  to  Xew  York 
for  a career.  With  his  talent  he  thought  he  should  have 
little  difficulty  in  gettiiig  an  editorial  position  upon  a metro- 
politan newspaper ; not  that  he  knew  anything  about  news- 
paper work,  or  had  the  least  idea  of  journalism ; he  knew  he 
was  not  fitted  for  the  technicalities  of  the  subordinate  depart- 
ments, but  he  could  write  leaders  with  perfect  ease,  he  was 
sure.  The  drudgery  of  the  newspaper  office  was  too  distaste- 
ful, and  besides  it  would  be  beneath  the  dignity  of  a graduate 
and  a successful  magazine  writer.  He  wanted  to  begin  at 
the  top  of  the  ladder. 

To  his  surprise  he  found  that  every  situation  in  the  edito- 
rial department  of  the  journals  was-  full,  always  had  been 
full,  was  always  likely  to  be  full.  It  seemed  to  him  that  the 
newspaper  managers  didn’t  want  genius,  but  mere  plodding 
and  grubbing.  Philip  therefore  read  diligently  in  the  Astor 
library,  planned  literary  works  that  should  compel  attention,^ 
and  nursed  his  genius.  He  had  no  friend  wise  enough  to 
tell  him  to  step  into  the  Dorking  Convention,  then  in  session^ 
make  a sketch  of  the  men  and  women  on  the  platform,  and 
take  it  to  the  editor  of  the  Daily  Grajyemne^  and  see  whafe 
he  could  get  a line  for  it. 

One  day  he  had  an  offer  from  some  country  friends,  who 
believed  in  him,  to  take  charge  of  a provincial  daily  news- 
paper, and  he  'went  to  consult  Mr.  Gringo — Gringo  who 
years  ago  managed  the  Atlas — about  taking  the  situation. 

Take  it  of  course,”  says  Gringo,  take  anything  that 
offers,  why  not  ? ” 

‘‘But  they  want  me  to  make  it  an  opposition  paper.” 

“Well,  make  it  that.  That  party  is  going  to  succeed,  it’s- 
going  to  elect  the  next  president.” 

“ I don’t  believe  it,”  said  Philip,  stoutly,  “ its 
wrong  in  principle,  and  it  ought  not  to  succeed,  but 


A NEW  DOOK  OPENS. 


119 


I don’t  see  how  I can  go  for  a thing  I don’t  believe  in.” 

“ O,  very  well,”  said  Gringo,  turning  away  with  a shade 
of  contempt,  “ you’ll  find  if  you  are  going  into  literature  and 
newspaper  work  that  you  can’t  afibrd  a conscience  like  that.” 

But  Philip  did  afford  it,  and  he  wrote,  thanking  his  friends, 
and  declining  because  he  said  the  political  scheme  would  fail, 
and  ought  to  fail.  And  he  went  hack  to  his  books  and  to 
his  waiting  for  an  opening  large  enough  for  his  dignified 
entrance  into  the  literary  world. 

It  was  in  this  time  of  rather  impatient  waiting  that  Philip 
was  one  morning  walking  down  Broadway  with  Henrj 
Brierly.  He  frequently  accompanied  Henry  part  way  down 
town  to  what  the  latter  called  his  office  in  Broad  Street,  to 
which  he  went,  or  pretended  to  go,  with  regularity  every  day. 
It  was  evident  to  the  most  casual  acquaintance  that  he  was  a 
man  of  affairs,  and  that  his  time  was  engrossed  in  the  largest 
sort  of  operations,  about  which  there  was  a mysterious  air. 
His  liability  to  be  suddenly  summoned  to  Washington,  or 
Boston  or  Montreal  or  even  to  Liverpool  was  always  immi- 
nent. He  never  was  so  summoned,  but  none  of  his  acquaint- 
ances would  have  been  surprised  to  hear  any  day  that  he  had 
gone  to  Panama  or  Peoria,  or  to  hear  from  him  that  he  had 
bought  the  Bank  of  Commerce. 

The  two  were  intimate  at  that  time, — they  had  been  class- 
mates— and  saw  a great  deal  of  each  other.  Indeed,  they 
lived  together  in  Hinth  Street,  in  a boarding-house  there, 
which  had  the  honor  of  lodging  and  partially  feeding  several 
other  young  fellows  of  like  kidney,  who  have  since  gone  their 
several  ways  into  fame  or  into  obscurity. 

It  was  during  the  morning  walk  to  which  reference  has 
been  made  that  Henry  Brierly  suddenly  said,  “ Philip,  how 
would  you  like  to  go  to  St.  Jo  ? ” 

“ I think  I should  like  it  of  all  things,”  replied  Philip,  with 
some  hesitation,  but  what  for.” 

“ Oh,  its  a big  operation.  We  are  going,  a lot  of  us,  rail- 
load men,  engineers,  contractors.  You  know  my  uncle  is  a 


120 


GO  WEST  YOUNG  MAN. 


great  railroad  man.  I’ve  no  doubt  I can  get  you  a chance  to 
go  if  you’ll  go.” 

But  in  what  capacity  would  I go  ? ” 

‘‘Well,  I’m  going  as  an  engineer.  You  can  go  as  one.” 

“ I don’t  know  an  engine  from  a coal  cart.” 

“Field  engineer,  civil  engineer.  You  can  begin  by  carry- 
ing a rod,  and  putting  down  the  figures.  It’s  easy  enough. 
I’ll  show  you  about  that.  We’ll  get  Trautwine  and  some  of 
those  books.” 

“ Yes,  but  what  is  it  for,  what  is  it  all  about?  ” 

“Why  don’t  you  see?  We  lay  out  a line,  spot  the  good 
land,  enter  it  up,  know  where  the  stations  are  to  be,  spot  them, 
buy  lots;  there’s  heaps  of  money  in  it.  We  wouldn’t  engi- 
neer long.” 

“ When  do  you  go  ?”  was  Philip’s  next  question,  after 
some  moments  of  silence. 

“ To-morrow.  Is  that  too  soon  ?” 

“ FTo,  its  not  too  soon.  I’ve  been  ready  to  go  anywhere 
for  six  months.  The  fact  is,  Henry,  that  I’m  about  tired  of 
trying  to  force  myself  into  things,  and  am  quite  willing  to 
try  fioating  with  the  stream  for  a while,  and  see  where  I will 
land.  This  seems  like  a providential  call ; it’s  sudden  enough.” 

The  two  young  men  who  were  by  tliis  time  full  of  the 
adventure,  went  down  to  the  Wall  street  office  of  Henry’s 
uncle  and  had  a talk  with  that  wily  operator.  The  uncle 
knew  Philip  very  well,  and  was  pleased  with  his  frank  enthu- 
siasm, and  willing  enough  to  give  him  a trial  in  the  western 
venture.  It  wsls  settled  therefore,  in  the  prompt  way  in 
which  things  are  settled  in  Hew  York,  that  they  would  start 
with  the  rest  of  the  company  next  morning  for  the  west. 

On  the  way  up  town  these  adventurers  bought  books  on 
engineering,  and  suits  of  India-rubber,  which  they  supposed 
they  would  need  in  a new  and  probably  damp  country,  and 
many  other  things  which  nobody  ever  needed  anywhere. 

The  night  was  spent  in  packing  up  and  writing  letters,  for 
Philip  would  not  take  such  an  important  step  without  inform- 
ing his  friends.  If  they  disapprove,  thought  he,  I’ve  done 
my  duty  by  letting  them  know.  Happy  youth,  that  is  ready 


PACKING  AND  LETTER  WRITING. 


121 


to  pack  its  valise,  and  start  for  Cathay  on  an  hour’s  notice. 

^‘By  the  way,”  calls  out  Philip  from  his  bed-room,  to 
Henry,  ‘‘where  is  St.  Jo.  ?” 

“ Why,  it’s  in  Missouri  somewhere,  on  the  frontier  I think. 
We’ll  get  a map.” 

“ JSTever  mind  the  map.  We  will  find  the  place  itself.  I 
was  afraid  it  was  nearer  home.” 

Philip  wrote  a long  letter,  first  of  all,  to  his  mother,  full  of  love 
and  glowing  anticipations  of  his  new  opening.  He  wouldn’t 
bother  her  with  business  details,  but  he  hoped  that  the  day 
was  not  far  off  when  she  would  see  him  return,  with  a mod- 
erate fortune,  and  something  to  add  to  the  comfort  of  her 
advancing  years. 

To  his  uncle  he  said  that  he  had  made  an  arrangement 
with  some  Hew  York  capitalists  to  go  to  Missouri,  in  a land 
and  railroad  operation,  which  would  at  least  give  him  a knowl- 
edge of  the  world  and  not  unlikely  offer  him  a business  open- 
ing. He  knew  his  uncle  would  be  glad  to  hear  that  he  had 
at  last  turned  his  tlioughts  to  a practical  matter. 

It  was  to  Buth  Bolton  that  Philip  wrote  last.  He  might 
never  see  her  again;  he  went  to  seek  his  fortune.  He 
well  knew  the  perils  of  the  frontier,  the  savage  state  of  society, 
the  lurking  Indians  and  the  dangers  of  fever.  But  there  was 
no  real  danger  to  a person  who  took  care  of  himself.  Might 
he  write  to  her  often  and  tell  her  of  his  life.  If  he  returned 
with  a fortune,  perhaps  and  perhaps.  If  he  was  unsuccess- 
ful, or  if  he  never  returned — perhaps  it  would  be  as  well. 
Ho  time  or  distance,  however,  would  ever  lessen  his  interest 
in  her.  He  would  say  good-night,  but  not  good-bye. 

In  the  soft  beginning  of  a Spring  morning,  long  before 
Hew  York  had  breakfasted,  while  yet  the  air  of  expectation 
hung  about  the  wharves  of  the  metropolis,  our  young  adven- 
turers made  their  way  to  the  Jersey  City  railway  station  of 
the  Erie  road,  to  begin  the  long,  swinging,  crooked  journey, 
over  what  a writer  of  a former  day  called  a causeway  of 
cracked  rails  and  cows,  to  the  West. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 


What  ever  to  say  he  toke  in  his  entente, 
his  langage  was  so  fayer  & pertynante, 
yt  someth  vnto  manys  herying 
not  only  the  worde,  but  veryly  the  thyng. 

Cazton's  Booh  of  Curtesye, 

IX  the  party  of  which  our  travelers  found  themselves  mem- 
bers, was  Duff  Brown,  the  great  railroad  contractor,  and 
subsequently  a well-known  member  of  congress ; a bluff, 
jovial  Bost’n  man,  thick-set,  close  shaven,  with  a heavy  jaw 
and  a low  forehead — a very  pleasant  man  if  you  were  not  in  his 
way.  He  had  government  contracts  also,  custom  houses  and 
dry  docks,  from  Portland  to  Xew  Orleans,  and  managed  to’ 
get  out  of  congress,  in  appropriations,  about  weight  for  weight 
of  gold  for  the  stone  furnished. 

Associated  with  him,  and  also  of  this  party,  was  Rodney 
Schaick,  a sleek  Xew  York  broker,  a man  as  prominent  in 
the  church  as  in  the  stock  exchange,  dainty  in  his  dress, 
smooth  of  speech,  the  necessary  complement  of  Duff  Brown 
in  any  enterprise  that  needed  assurance  and  adroitness. 

It  would  be  difficult  to  find  a pleasanter  traveling  prrty,  ^ 
one  fliat  shook  off  more  readily  the  artificial  restraints  of 
Puritanic  strictness,  and  took  the  world  with  good-natured 
allowance.  Money  was  plenty  for  every  attainable  luxury, 
and  there  seemed  to  be  no  doubt  that  its  supply  would  con- 
tinue, and  that  fortunes  were  about  to  be  made  without  a 
great  deal  of  toil.  Even  Philip  soon  caught  the  prevailing 


PKECAUTIONS  AGAINST  BEING  POISONED  BY  WATEK.  12^ 

spirit ; Harry  did  not  need  any  inoculation,  he  always  talked 
in  six  figures.  It  was  as  natural  for  the  dear  boy  to  be  rich 
as  it  is  for  most  people  to  be  poor. 

The  elders  of  the  party  were  not  long  in  discovering  th& 
fact,  which  almost  all  travelers  to  the  west  soon  find  out,  that 
the  water  was  poor.  It  must  have  been  by  a lucky  premoni-- 
tion  of  this  that  they  all  had  brandy  flasks  with  which  to 
qualify  the  w^ater  of  the  country  j and  it  was  no  doubt  front 
an  uneasy  feeling  of  the  danger  of  being  poisoned  that  they' 
kept  experimenting,  mixing  a little  of  the  dangerous  and 
changing  fluid,  as  they  passed  along,  with  the  contents  of  the^ 
flasks,  thus  saving  their  lives  hour  by  hour.  Philip  learned 
afterwards  that  temperance  and  the  strict  observance  of  Sun- 
day and  a certain  gravity  of  deportment  are  geographical 
habits,  which  people  do  not  usually  carry  with  them  away^ 
from  home. 

Our  travelers  stopped  in  Chicago  long  enough  to  see  that 
they  could  make  their  fortunes  there  in  twm  week’s  time,  but 
it  did  not  seem  w'orth  while ; the  west  was  more  attractive;, 
the  further  one  'vent  the  wider  the  opportunities  opened. 
They  took  railroad  to  Alton  and  the  steamboat  from  there  ta 
St.  Louis,  for  the  change  and  to  have  a glimpse  of  the  river^ 

“ Isn’t  this  jolly  ?”  cried  Henry,  dancing  out  of  the  barber’ s- 
room,  and  coming  dowm  the  deck  with  a one,  twm,  three  step^ 
shaven,  curled  and  perfumed  after  his  usual  exquisite  fashion. 

“What’s  jolly  ? ’’asked  Philip,  looking  out  upon  the  dreary 
and  monotonous  waste  through  which  the  shaking  steamboat 
was  coughing  its  way. 

“Why,  the  whole  thing;  it’s  immense  I can  tell  you.  I 
wouldn’t  give  that  to  be  guaranteed  a hundred  thousand  cold 
cash  in  a year’s  time.” 

“ Where’s  Mr.  Browm  ? ” 

“ He  is  in  the  saloon,  playing  poker  with  Schaick,  and  that> 
long  haired  party  with  the  striped  trousers,  who  scrambled 
aboard  when  the  stage  plank  was  half  hauled  in,  and  the  big 
Delegate  to  Congress  from  out  west.” 

“ That’s  a fine  looking  fellow,  that  delegate,  with  his  glossy 


124  A GAME  OF  POKER  MADE  INTERESTING. 

l)lack  whiskers ; looks  like  a W ashington  man ; I shouldn’t 
think  he’d  be  at  poker.” 

‘‘Oh,  its  only  five  cent  ante,  just  to  make  it  interesting, 
the  Delegate  said.” 

“ But  I shouldn’t  think  a representative  in  Congress  would 
play  poker  any  way  in  a public  steamboat.” 

“Nonsense,  you’ve  got  to  pass  the  time.  I tried  a hand 
myself,  but  those  old  fellows  are  too  many  for  me.  The 


THE  delegate’s  INTERESTING  GAME. 

Delegate  knows  all  the  points.  I’d  bet  a hundred  dollars  he 
will  ante  his  way  right  into  the  United  States  Senate  when 
his  territory  comes  in.  He’s  got  the  cheek  for  it.” 

“ He  has  the  grave  and  thoughtful  manner  of  expectoration 
^of  a public  man,  for  one  thing,”  added  Philip. 

“ Harry,”  said  Philip,  after  a pause,  “ what  have  you  got 
on  those  big  boots  for  ; do  you  expect  to  wade  ashore  ? ” 

“ I’m  breaking  ’em  in.” 

The  fact  was  Harry  had  got  himself  up  in  what  he  thought 
a proper  costume  for  a new  country,  and  was  in  appearance 


THE  PARTY  IN  ST.  LOUIS. 


125 


a sort  of  compromise  between  a dandy  of  Broadway  and  a 
backwoodsman.  Harry,  with  blue  eyes,  fresh  complexion,, 
silken  whiskers  and  curly  chestnut  hair,  was  as  handsome  as 
a fashion  plate.  He  wore  this  morning  a soft  hat,  a short  cut- 
away coat,  an  open  vest  displaying  immaculate  linen,  a leath- 
ern belt  round  his  waist,  and  top-boots  of  soft  leather,  well 
polished,  that  came  above  his  knees  and  required  a string 
attached  to  his  belt  to  keep  them  up.  The  light  hearted 
fellow  gloried  in  these  shining  encasements  of  his  well  shaped 
legs,  and  told  Philip  that  they  were  a perfect  protection 
against  prairie  rattle-snakes,  which  never  strike  above  the 
knee. 

The  landscape  still  wore  an  almost  wintry  appearance 
when  our  travelers  left  Chicago.  It  was  a genial  spring  day 
when  they  landed  at  St.  Louis ; the  birds  were  singing,  the 
blossoms  of  peach  trees  in  city'  garden  plots,  made  the  air 
sweet,  and  in  the  roar  and  tumult  on  the  long  river  levee 
they  found  an  excitement  that  accorded  -with  their  own 
hopeful  anticipations. 

The  party  went  to  the  Southern  Hotel,  where  the  great 
Duff  Brown  was  very  well  known,  and  indeed  was  a man  of 
so  much  importance  that  even  the  office  clerk  was  respectful 
to  him.  He  might  have  respected  in  him  also  a certain  vul- 
gar swagger  and  insolence  of  money,  which  the  clerk  greatly 
admired. 

The  young  fellows  liked  the  house  and  liked  the  city ; it 
seemed  to  them  a mighty  free  and  hospitable  town.  Coming 
from  the  East  they  were  struck  with  many  peculiarities. 
Everybody  smoked  in  the  streets,  for  one  thing,  they  noticed ; 
everybody  “ took  a drink  ” in  an  open  manner  whenever  he 
wished  to  do  so  or  was  asked,  as  if  the  habit  needed  no  conw 
cealment  or  apology.  In  the  evening  when  they  walked 
about  they  found  people  sitting  on  the  door-steps  of  their 
dwellings,  in  a manner  not  usual  in  a northern  city ; in  front 
of  some  of  the  hotels  and  saloons  the  side  walks  were  filled 
with  chairs  and  benches — Paris  fashion,  said  Harry — upon 
which  people  lounged  in  these  warm  spring  evenings,  smokings 


126 


HAERY  AS  AN  ENGINEER 


,always  smoking;  and  the  clink  of  glasses  and  of  billiard 
balls  was  in  tlie  air.  It  was  delightful. 

Harry  at  once  found  on  landing  that  his  back-woods  cus- 
tom would  not  be  needed  in  St.  Louis,  and  that,  in  fact,  ho 
bad  need  of  all  the  resources  of  his  wardrobe  to  keep  even 
with  the  young  swells  of  the  town.  But  this  did  not  much 
matter,  for  Harry  was  always  superior  to  his  clothes.  As 
they  were  likely  to  be  detained  some  tim^  in  the  city,  Harry 
told  Philip  that  he  was  going  to  improve  his  time.  And  he 
did.  It  was  an  encouragement  to  any  industrious  man  to  see 
this  young  fellow  rise,  carefully  dress  himself,  eat  his  break- 
fast deliberately,  smoke  his  cigar  tranquilly,  and  then  repair 
to  his  room,  to  what  he  called  his  work,  with  a grave  and 
occupied  manner,  but  with  perfect  cheerfulness. 

Harry  would  take  olf  his  coat,  remove  his  cravat,  roll  up 
bis  shirt-sleeves,  give  his  curly  hair  the  right  touch  before 
the  glass,  get  out  his  book  on  engineering,  his  boxes  of  instru- 
ments, his  drawing-paper,  his  profile  paper,  open  the  book  of 
logarithms,  mix  his  India  ink,  sharpen  his  pencils,  light  a 
cigar,  and  sit  down  at  the  table  to  “ lay  out  a line,”  with  the 
most  grave  notion  that  he  was  mastering  the  details  of  engi- 
neering. Lie  would  spend  half  a day  in  these  preparations 
wfithout  ever  working  out  a problem  or  having  the  faintest 
conception  of  the  use  of  lines  or  logarithms.  And  when  he 
bad  finished,  he  had  the  most  cheerful  confidence  that  he  had 
done  a good  day’s  work. 

It  made  no  difference,  however,  whether  Harry  was  in  his 
room  in  a hotel  or  in  a tent,  Philip  soon  found,  he  was  just 
the  same.  In  camp  he  would  get  himself  up  in  the  most 
elaborate  toilet  at  his  command,  polish  his  long  boots  to  the 
top,  lay  out  his  work  before  him,  and  spend  an  hour  or  longer, 
if  anybody  was  looking  at  him,  humming  airs,  knitting  his 
brows,  and  “ working  ” at  engineering ; and  if  a crowd  of  gaping 
rustics  were  looking  on  all  the  while  it  was  perfectly  satisfac- 
tory to  him. 

‘‘  You  see,”  he  says  to  Philip  one  morning  at  the  hotel 
when  he  was  thus  engaged,  I want  to  get  the  theory  of  this 


MYSTERY  AND  ROMANCE. 


12T 


thing,  so  that  I can  have  a check  on  the  engineers.’’ 

I thought  you  were  going  to  be  an  engineer  yourself,” 
queried  Philip. 

“ hTot  many  times,  if  the  court  knows  herself.  There’s 
better  game.  Brown  and  Schaick  have,  or  will  have,  the 
control  for  the  whole  line  of  the  Salt  Lick  Pacific  Extension, 
forty  thousand  dollars  a mile  over  the  prairie,  with  extra  for 
haripan — and  it’ll  be  pretty  much  all  hard-pan  I can  tell  you ; 
besides  every  alternate  section  of  land  on  this  line.  There’s 
millions  in  the  job.  I’m  to  have  the  sub-contract  for  the 
first  fifty  miles,  and  you  can  bet  it’s  a soft  thing.” 

“I’ll  tell  you  what  you  do, Philip,”  continued  Harry,  in  a 
burst  of  generosity,  “ if  I don’t  get  you  into  my  contract, 
you’ll  be  with  the  engineers,  and  you  just  stick  a stake  at  the 
first  ground  marked  for  a depot,  buy  the  land  of  the  farmer 
before  he  knows  where  the  d^pot  will  be,  and  we’ll  turn  a 
hundred  or  so  on  that.  I’ll  advance  the  money  for  the  pay- 
ments, and  you  can  sell  the  lots.  Schaick  is  going  to  let  me 
have  ten  thousand  just  for  a flyer  in  such  operations.” 

“ But  that’s  a good  deal  of  money.” 

“ Wait  till  you  are  used  to  handling  money.  I didn’t  come 
out  here  for  a bagatelle.  My  uncle  wanted  me  to  stay  East 
and  go  in  on  the  Mobile  custom  house,  work  up  the  Wash- 
ington end  of  it ; he  said  there  was  a fortune  in  it  for  a smart 
young  fellow,  but  I preferred  to  take  the  chances  out  here. 
Did  I tell  you  I had  an  offer  from  Bobbett  and  Fanshaw  to 
go  into  their  office  as  confidential  clerk  on  a salary  of  ten 
thousand  ?” 

“ Why  didn’t  you  take  it  ?”  asked  Philip,  to  whom  a sal- 
ary of  two  thousand  would  have  seemed  wealth,  before  he 
started  on  this  journey. 

“ Take  it  ? I’d  rather  operate  on  my  own  hook,”  said  Harry, 
in  his  most  airy  manner. 

A few  evenings  after  their  arrival  at  the  Southern,  Philip 
and  Harry  made  the  acquaintance  of  a very  agreeable  gentle- 
man, whom  they  had  frequently  seen  before  about  the  hotel  cor- 
ridors, and  passed  a casual  word  with.  He  had  the  air  of  a^ 


128 


A VALUABLE  ACQUAINTANCE  MADE. 


man  of  business,  and  was  evidently  a person  of  importance. 

The  precipitating  of  this  casual  intercourse  into  the  more? 
substantial  form  of  an  acquaintanceship  was  the  work  of  the 
gentleman  himself,  and  occurred  in  this  wise.  Meeting  the 
two  friends  in  the  lobby  one  evening,  he  asked  them  to  give 
him  the  time,  and  added  : 

“ Excuse  me,  gentlemen — strangers  in  St.  Louis  % Ah,  yes — 
yes.  From  the  East,  perhaps?  Ah,  just  so,  just  so.  Eastern 
born  myself — Virginia.  Sellers  is  my  name — Beriah  Sellars- 


THE  PERSON  OF  IMPORTANCE. 


— \)j  the  way — New  York,  did  you  say  ? That  reminds  me; 
just  met  some  gentlemen  from  your  State  a week  or  two  ago 
^very  prominent  gentlemen — in  public  life  they  are ; you 
must  know  them,  without  doubt.  Let  me  see — let  me  see. 
Curious  those  names  have  escaped  me.  I know  they  were 
from  your  State,  because  I remember  afterward  my  old  friend 
Governor  Shackleby  said  to  me— fine  man,  is  the  Governor 
— one  of  the  finest  men  our  country  has  produced — said  he, 
‘Colonel,  how  did  you  like  those  New  York  gentlemen?— 


COL.  SELLERS  AT  THE  “PLANTER’S.' 


129 


not  many  such  men  in  the  world,  Colonel  Sellers,’  said  the 
Governor — ^yes,  it  was  New  York  he  said — I remember  it 
distinctly.  I canH  recall  those  names,  somehow.  But  no 
matter.  Stopping  here,  gentlemen — stopping  at  the  South- 
ern 

In  shaping  their  reply  in  their  minds,  the  title  “ Mr.  ” had 
a place  in  it ; but  when  their  turn  had  arrived  to  speak,  the 
title  Colonel  ” came  from  their  lips  instead. 

They  said  yes,  they  were  abiding  at  the  Southern,  and 
thought  it  a very  good  house. 

“ Yes,  yes,  the  Southern  is  fair.  I myself  go  to  the  Plant- 
er’s, old,  aristocratic  house.  We  Southern  gentlemen  don’t 
change  ©ur  ways,  you  know.  I always  make  it  my  home 
there  when  I run  down  from  Hawkeye — my  plantation  is  in 
Hawkeye,  a little  up  in  the  country.  You  should  know  the 
Planter’s.” 

Philip  and  Harry  both  said  they  should  like  to  see  a hotel 
that  had  been  so  famous  in  its  day — a cheerful  hostelrie, 
Philip  said  it  must  have  been  where  duels  were  fought  there 
across  the  dining-room  table. 

‘‘  You  may  believe  it,  sir,  an  uncommonly  pleasant  lodging. 

. Shall  we  walk  ?” 

And  the  three  strolled  along  the  streets,  the  Colonel  talking 
all  the  way  in  the  most  liberal  and  friendly  manner,  and  with 
a frank  open-heartedness  that  inspired  confidence. 

“ Yes,  born  East  myself,  raised  all  along,  know  the  West — 
a great  country,  gentlemen.  The  place  for  a young  fellow  of 
spirit  to  pick  up  a fortune,  simply  pick  it  up,  it’s  lying  round 
loose  here.  Not  a day  that  I don’t  put  aside  an  opportunity, 
too  busy  to  look  into  it.  Management  of  my  own  property 
takes  my  time.  First  visit  ? Looking  for  an  opening?” 

‘‘  Yes,  looking  around,”  replied  Harry. 

“Ah,  here  we  are.  You’d  rather  sit  here  in  front  than  go 
to  my  apartments  ? So  had  I.  An  opening,  eh  ?” 

The  Colonel’s  eyes  twinkled.  “ Ah,  just  so.  The  whole 
country  is  opening  up,  all  we  want  is  capital  to  develope  it. 
Slap  down  the  rails  and  bring  the  land  into  market.  The 
9- 


130 


“ WILL  YOU  TAKE  SOMETHING. 


richest  land  on  God  Almighty’s  footstool  is  lying  right  out 
there.  If  I had  my  capital  free  I could  plant  it  for  mil- 
lions.” 

“I  suppose  your  capital  is  largely  in  your  plantation?” 
asked  Philip. 

Well,  partly,  sir,  partly.  I’m  down  here  now  with  refer- 
ence to  a little  operation — a little  side  thing  merely.  By  the 
way  gentlemen,  excuse  the  liberty,  but  it’s  about  my  usual 
time  ” — 

The  Colonel  paused,  but  as  no  movement  of  his  acquaint- 
ances followed  this  plain  remark,  he  added,  in  an  explana- 
tory manner, 

“ I’m  rather  particular  about  the  exact  time — have  to  be  in 
this  climate.” 

Even  this  open  declaration  of  his  hospitable  intention  not 
being  understood  the  Colonel  politely  said. 

Gentlemen,  will  you  take  something  ? ” 

Col.  Sellers  led  the  way  to  a saloon  on  Fourth  street  under 
the  hotel,  and  the  young  gentlemen  fell  into  the  custom  of 
the  country. 

“ Not  that,”  said  the  Colonel  to  the  bar-keeper,  who  shoved 
along  the  counter  a bottle  of  apparently  corn-whiskey,  as  if 
he  had  done  it  before  on  the  same  order ; “ not  that,”  with  a 
wave  of  the  hand.  “ That  Otard  if  you  please.  Yes.  Never 
take  an  inferior  liquor,  gentlemen,  not  in  the  evening,  in 
this  climate.  There.  That’s  the  stuff.  My  respects ! ” 

The  hospitable  gentleman,  having  disposed  of  his  liquor, 
remarking  that  it  was  not  quite  the  thing — “ when  a man  has 
his  own  cellar  to  go  to,  he  is  apt  to  get  a little  fastidious 
about  his  liquors  ” — called  for  cigars.  But  the  brand  offered 
did  not  suit  him  ; he  motioned  the  box  away,  and  asked  for 
some  particular  Havana’s,  those  in  separate  wrappers. 

“ I always  smoke  this  sort,  gentlemen ; they  are  a little 
more  expensive,  but  you’ll  learn,  in  this  climate,  that  you’d 
better  not  economize  on  poor  cigars.” 

Having  imparted  this  valuable  piece  of  information,  the 
Colonel  lighted  the  fragrant  cigar  with  satisfaction,  and  then 


WHO  PAID  THE  BILL. 


131 


carelessly  put  his  fingers  into  his  right  vest  pocket.  That 
nQOvernent  being  without  result,  with  a shade  of  disappoint- 
ment on  his  face,  he  felt  in  his  left  vest  pocket.  ]^ot  finding 
anything. there,  he  looked  up  with  a serious  and  annoyed  air, 


“not  that.” 


aJixiously  slapped  his  right  pantaloon’s  pocket,  and  then  his 
left,  and  exclaimed, 

‘‘  By  George,  that’s  annoying.  By  George,  that’s  mortify- 
itig.  l^ever  had  anything  of  that  kind  happen  to  me  before. 
IVe  left  my  pocket-book.  Hold ! Here’s  a bill,  after  all. 
^lo,  thunder,  it’s  a receipt.” 

“ Allow  me,”  said  Philip,  seeing  how  seriously  the  Colonel 
was  annoyed,  and  taking  out  his  purse. 

The  Colonel  protested  he  couldn’t  think  of  it,  and  muttered 
something  to  the  bar-keeper  about  “ hanging  it  up,”  but  the 
vender  of  exhilaration  made  no  sign,  and  Philip  had  the 
privilege  of  paying  the  costly  shot ; Col.  Sellers  profusely 
apologizing  and  claiming  the  right  next  time,  next  time.” 

As  soon  as  Beriah  Sellers  had  bade  his  friends  good  night 
and  seen  them  depart,  he  did  not  retire  to  apartments 
in  the  Planter’s,  but  took  his  way  to  his  lodgings  with  a 
fiiend  in  a distant  part  of  the  city. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 


Pulchra  duos  inter  sita  stat  Philadelphia  rivo*; 

Inter  quos  duo  sunt  millia  longa  vise. 

Delawar  his  major,  Sculkil  minor  ille  vocatur; 

Indis  et  Suevis  notus  uterque  diu. 

Hie  plateas  mensor  spatiis  delineat  sequis, 

Et  domui  recto  est  ordine  juncta  domus. 

T.  Makin, 

Vergin  era  fra  lor  di  gia  matura 
Verginita,  d'alti  pensieri  e regi, 

D’alta  belta ; ma  sua  belt  a non  cura, 

■ O tanta  sol,  quant’  onesta  sen  fregi.  Tasso. 

The  letter  that  Philip  Sterling  wrote  to  Ruth  Bolton,  on 
the  evening  of  setting  out  to  seek  his  fortune  in  the 
west,  found  that  young  lady  in  her  own  father’s  house  in 
Philadelphia.  It  was  one  of  the  pleasantest  of  the  many  charm- 
ing suburban  houses  in  that  hospitable  city,  which  is  territorially 
one  of  the  largest  cities  in  the  world,  and  only  prevented 
from  becoming  the  convenient  metropolis  of  the  country  by 
the  intrusive  strip  of  Camden  and  Amboy  sand  which  shut& 
it  off  from  the  Atlantic  ocean.  It  is  a city  of  steady  thrifty 
the  arms  of  which  might  well  be  the  deliberate  but  delicious 
terrapin  that  imparts  such  a royal  flavor  to  its  feasts. 

It  was  a spring  morning,  and  perhaps  it  was  the  influence 
of  it  that  made  Ruth  a little  restless,  satisfled  neither  with 
the  out-doors  nor  the  in-doors.  Her  sisters  had  gone  to  the 
city  to  show  some  country  visitors  Independence  Hall,  Girard 
College  and  Fairmount  Water  Works  and  Park,  four  objects 
which  Americans  cannot  die  peacefully,  even  in  Naples,  with- 
out having  seen.  But  Ruth  confessed  that  she  was  tired  of 
them,  and  also  of  the  Mint.  She  was  tired  of  other  things. 
She  tried  this  morning  an  air  or  two  upon  the  piano,  sang  a 
simple  song  in  a sweet,  but  slightly  metallic  voice,  and  then 

132 


A QUAKER  MOTHER. 


133 


seating  herself  by  the  open  window,  read  Philip’s  letter. 

Was  she  thinking  about  Philip,  as  she  gazed  across  the 
fresh  lawn  over  the  tree  tops  to  the  Chelton  Hills,  or  of  that 
world  which  his  entrance  into  her  tradition-bound  life 
had  been  one  of  the  means  of  opening  to  her  ? Whatever 
she  thought,  she  was  not  idly  musing,  as  one  might  see  by 
the  expression  of  her  face.  After  a time  she  took  up  a book  ; 
it  was  a medical'  work,  and  to  all  appearance  about  as  inter- 
esting to  a girl  of  eighteen  as  the  statutes  at  large ; but  her 
face  was  soon  aglow  over  its  pages,  and  she  w^as  so  absorbed 
in  it  that  she  did  not  notice  the  entrance  of  her  mother  at 
the  open  door. 

‘^Kuth?” 

‘‘Well,  mother,”  said  the  young  student,  looking  up,  with 
a shade  of  impatience. 

“ I wanted  to  talk  with  thee  a little  about  thy  plans.” 

“ Mother,  thee  knows  I couldn’t  stand  it  at  Westfield ; the 
school  stifled  me,  it’s  a place  to  turn  young  people  into  dried 
fruit.” 

“ I know,”  said  Margaret  Bolton,  with  a half  anxious  smile, 
“thee  chafes  against  all  the  ways  of  Friends,  but  what  will 
thee  do  ? Why  is  thee  so  discontented  ? ” 

“ If  I must  say  it,  mother,  I want  to  go  away,  and  get  out 
of  this  dead  level.” 

Witli  a look  half  of  pain  and  half  of  pity,  her  mother 
answered,  “ I am  sure  thee  is  little  interfered  with ; thee 
dresses  as  thee  will,  and  goes  where  thee  pleases,  to  any 
church  thee  likes,  and  thee  has  music.  I had  a visit  yester- 
day from  the  society’s  committee  by  way  of  discipline, 
because  we  have  a piano  in  the  house,  which  is  against  the 
rules.” 

“ I hope  thee  told  the  elders  that  father  and  I are  respon- 
sible for  the  piano,  and  that,  much  as  thee  loves  music,  thee 
is  never  in  the  room  when  it  is  played.  Fortunately  father 
is  already  out  of  meeting,  so  they  can’t  discipline  him.  I 
lieard  father  tell  cousin  Abner  that  he  was  whipped  so  often 


134: 


A CAREER  C)  10 SEN. 


for  whistling  wlien  he  was  a boy  tiiat  he  was  determined  to 
have  what  compensation  he  could  get  now.” 

“Thy  ways  greatly  try  me,  Itiith,  and  all  thy  relations.  I 
desire  thy  happiness  first  of  all,  but  thee  is  starting  out  on  a 


Kuril’s  MOTIIKR  MAKKS  KNQUIRIES. 


dangerous  path.  Is  thy  father  willing  thee  should  go  away* 
to  a school  of  the  world’s  people  ? ” 

“ I have  not  asked  him,”  Ruth  replied  with  a look  that 
might  imply  that  she  was  one  of  those  determined  little 
bodies  who  first  made  up  her  own  mind  and  then  compelled 
others  to  make  up  theirs  in  accordance  with  hers. 

“ And  when  thee  has  got  the  education  thee  wants^ 
and  lost  all  relish  for  the  society  of  thy  friends  and  the  ways, 
of  thy  ancestors,  what  then  ? ” 

Ruth  turned  square  round  to  her  mother,  and  with  an  im- 
passive face  and  not  the  slightest  change  of  tone,  said, 
“Mother,  I’m  going  to  study  medicine?  ” 

Margaret  Bolton  almost  lost  for  a moment  her  habitual 
placidity. 

“ Thee,  study  medicine ! A slight  frail  girl  like  thee,  study 
medicine  Does  thee  think  tbef>  ^^oidd  stand  it  six  months? 


COUNTRY  COUSINS. 


135 


And  the  lectures,  and  the  dissecting  rooms,  has  thee  thought 
of  the  dissecting  rooms  ? ” 

Mother,”  said  Kuth  calmly,  I have  thought  it  all  over. 
I know  I can  go  through  the  whole,  clinics,  dissecting  room 
and  all.  Does  thee  think  I lack  nerve  ? What  is  there  to 
fear  in  a person  dead  more  than  in  a person  living  ? ” 

“ But  thy  health  and  strength,  child  ; thee  can  never  stand 
the  severe  application.  And,  besides,  suppose  thee  does 
learn  medicine  ? ” 

I will  practice  it.” 

Here?” 

“ Here.” 

“ Where  thee  and  thy  family  are  known  ? ” 

‘‘  If  1 can  get  patients.” 

“ I hope  at  least,  Kuth,  thee  will  let  us  know  when  thee 
opens  an  office,”  said  her  mother,  with  an  approach  to  sarcasm 
that  she  rarely  indulged  in,  as  she  rose  and  left  the  room. 

Buth  sat  quite  still  for  a time,  with  face  intent  and  flushed. 
It  was  out  now.  She  had  begun  her  open  battle. 

The  sight-seers  returned  in  high  spirits  from  tlie  city. 
Was  there  any  building  in  Greece  to  compare  with  Girard 
College,  was  there  ever  such  a magnificent  j^ile  of  stone  devised 
for  the  shelter  of  poor  orphans  ? Think  of  the  stone  shingles 
of  the  roof  eight  inches  thick  ! Ruth  asked  the  enthusiasts  if 
they  would  like  to  live  in  such  a sounding  mausoleum,  with 
its  great  halls  and  echoing  rooms,  and  no  comfortable  place 
in  it  for  the  accommodation  of  any  body  ? If  they  were  or- 
phans, would  they  like  to  be  brought  up  in  a Grecian  temple? 

And  then  there  was  Broad  street!  Wasn’t  it  the  broadest 
and  the  longest  street  in  the  world  ? There  certainly  w'as  no 
end  to  it,  and  even  Ruth  was  Philadelphian  enough  to  believe 
that  a street  ought  not  to  have  any  end,  or  architectural  point 
upon  wliicli  the  weary  eye  could  rest. 

But  neither  St.  Girard,  nor  Broad  street,  neither  wonders 
of  the  Mint  nor  the  glories  of  the  Hall  where  the  ghosts  of  our 
fathers  sit  always  signing  the  Declaration,  impressed  the 
visitors  so  much  as  the  splendors  of  the  Chestnut  street 
windows,  and  the  bargains  on  Eighth  street.  The  truth  is  that 


136 


FATHER  AND  DAUGHTER. 


the  country  cousins  had  come  to  town  to  attend  the  Yearly 
Meeting,  and  the  amount  of  shopping  that  preceded  that 
religious  event  was  scarcely  exceeded  by  the  preparations  for 
the  opera  in  more  worldly  circles. 

Is  thee  going  to  the  Yearly  Meeting,  Euth?”  asked  one 
of  the  girls. 

I have  nothing  to  wear,”  replied  that  demure  person.  “ If 
thee  wants  to  see  new  bonnets,  orthodox  to  a shade  and 
conformed  to  the  letter  of  the  true  form,  thee  must  go  to  the 
Arch  Street  Meeting.  Any  departure  from  either  color  or 
shape  would  be  instantly  taken  note  of.  It  has  occupied 
mother  a long  time,  to  find  at  the  shops  the  exact  shade 
for  her  new  bonnet.  Oh,  thee  must  go  by  all  means.  But 
thee  won’t  see  there  a sweeter  woman  than  mother.” 

And  thee  won’t  go  ?” 

‘‘Why  should  I ? I’ve  been  again  and  again.  If  I go  to 
Meeting  at  all  I like  best  to  sit  in  the  quiet  old  house  in 
Germantown,  where  the  windows  are  all  open  and  I can  see 
the  trees,  and  hear  the  stir  of  the  leaves.  It’s  such  a crush  at 
the  Yearly  Meeting  at  Arch  Street,  and  then  there’s  the  row 
of  sleek-looking  young  men  who  line  the  curbstone  and  stare 
at  us  as  we  come  out.  No,  I don’t  feel  at  home  there.” 

That  evening  Euth  and  her  father  sat  late  by  the  drawing- 
room fire,  as  they  were  quite  apt  to  do  at  night.  It  was 
always  a time  of  confidences. 

“ Thee  has  another  letter  from  young  Sterling,”  said  Eli 
Bolton. 

“ Yes.  Philip  has  gone  to  the  far  west.” 

“ How  far  ?” 

“ He  doesn’t  say,  but  it’s  on  the  frontier,  and  on  the  map 
everything  beyond  it  is  marked  ‘ Indians  ’ and  ‘ desert,’  and 
looks  as  desolate  as  a Wednesday  Meeting.” 

“ Humph.  It  was  time  for  him  to  do  something.  Is  he 
going  to  start  a daily  newspaper  among  the  Kick-a-poos  V ’ 

“ Father,  thee’s  unjust  to  Philip.  He’s  going  into  business.” 

“ What  sort  of  business  can  a young  man  go  into  without 
capital  ?” 

“ He  doesn’t  say  exactly  what  it  is,”  said  Euth  a little 


A CAGED  EAGLE  GROWS  UNEASY 


137 


dubiously,  “ but  it’s  something  about  land  and  railroads,  and 
thee  knows,  father,  that  fortunes  are  made  nobody  knows 
exactly  how,  in  a new  country.” 

‘‘  I should  think  so,  you  innocent  puss,  and  in  an  old  one 
too.  But  Philip  is  honest,  and  he  has  talent  enoligh,  if  he 
will  stop  scribbling,  to  make  his  way.  But  thee  may  as  well 
take  care  of  tlieeself,  Kuth,  and  not  go  dawdling  along  with 
a young  man  in  his  adventures,  until  thy  own  mind  is  a little 
more  settled  what  thee  wants.” 

This  excellent  advice  did  not  seem  to  impress  Ruth  greatly, 
for  she  was  looking  away  with  that  abstraction  of  vision 
which  often  came  into  her  grey  eyes,  and  at  length  she 
exclaimed,  with  a sort  of  impatience, 

“ I wish  I could  go  west,  or  south,  or  somewhere.  What 
a box  women  are  put  into,  measured  for  it,  and  put  in  young; 
if  we  go  anywhere  it’s  in  a box,  veiled  and  pinioned  and  shut 
in  by  disabilities.  Father,  I should  like  to  break  things  and 
get  loose.” 

What  a sweet-voiced  little  innocent,  it  was  to  be  sure. 

“ Thee  will  no  doubt  break  things  enough  when  thy  time 
comes,  child ; women  always  have ; but  what  does  thee  want 
now  that  thee  hasn’t  ? ” 

“ I want  to  be  something,  to  make  myself  something,  to  do 
something.  Why  should  I rust,  and  be  stupid,  and  sit  in  in- 
action because  I am  a girl  ? What  would  happen  to  me  if 
thee  should  lose  thy  property  and  die  ? What  one  useful 
thing  could  I do  for  a living,  for  the  support  of  mother  and 
the  children  ? And  if  I had  a fortune,  would  thee  want  me 
to  lead  a useless  life  ? ” 

Has  thy  mother  led  a useless  life  ? ” 

Somewhat  that  depends  upon  whether  her  children 
amount  to  anything,”  retorted  the  sharp  little  disputant. 

What’s  the  good,  father,  of  a series  of  human  beings  who 
don’t  advance  any  ? ” 

Friend  Eli,  who  had  long  ago  laid  aside  the  Quaker  dress, 
and  was  out  of  Meeting,  and  who  in  fact  after  a youth  of 
doubt  could  not  yet  define  his  belief,  nevertheless  looked 
with  some  wonder  at  this  fierce  young  eagle  of  his, 


138 


FOOT  LIGHTS  AND  MUSIC. 


Latched  in  a Friend’s  dove-cote.  But  Le  only  said, 

“ Has  thee  consulted  thy  mother  about  a career,  I suppose 
it  is  a career  thee  wants  ? ” 

Biith  did  not  reply  directly;  she  complained  that  her 
mother  didn’t  understand  her.  But  that  wise  and  placid 
woman  understood  the  sweet  rebel  a great  deal  better  than 
Buth  understood  herself.  She  also  had  a history,  possibly, 
and  had  sometime  beaten  her  young  wings  against  the  cage 
of  custom,  and  indulged  in  dreams  of  a new  social  order,  and 
had  passed  through  that  fiery  period  when  it  seems  possible 
for  one  mind,  which  has  not  yet  tried  its  limits,  to  break  up 
and  re-arrange  the  world. 

Ruth  replied  to  Philip’s  letter  in  due  time  and  in  the  most 

cordial  and  unsentimental 
manner.  Philip  liked  the 
letter,  as  he  did  everything 
she  did  ; but  he  had  a dim 
notion  that  there  was  more 
about  herself  in  the  letter 
than  about  him.  He  took 
it  with  him  from  the  South- 
ern Hotel,  when  he  went  to 
walk,  and  read  it  over  and 
again  in  an  unfrequented 
street  as  he  stumbled  along. 
The  rather  common-place 
and  unformed  hand- writ- 
ing seemed  to  him  peculiar . 
and  characteristic,  difierent 
from  that  of  any  other  wo- 
man. 

Ruth  was  glad  to  hear 
that  Philip  had  made  a push  into  the  world,  and  she  was 
sure  that  his  talent  and  courage  would  make  a way  for  him. 
She  should  pray  for  his  success  at  any  rate,  and  especially  that 
the  Indians,  in  St.  Louis,  would  not  take  his  scalp. 

Philip  looked  rather  dubious  at  this  sentence.,  and  wished 
that  he  had  written  nothing  about  Indians, 


CHAPTEE  XY. 


— Rationalem  quidem  puto  medicinam  esse  debere : instrui  vero  ab  evidentibns 
causis,  obscaris  omnibus  non  a cogitatione  artificis,  sed  ab  ipsa  arte  rejectis. 
Incidere  autem  vivorum  corpora,  et  crudele,  et  supervacuum  est : mortuorum 
corpora  discentibus  necessarium.  Celsus, 

Eli  BOLTOX  and  his  wife  talked  over  Euth’s  case,  as 
they  had  often  done  before,  with  no  little  anxiety^ 
Alone  of  all  their  children  she  was  impatient  of  the  restraints 
and  monotony  of  the  Friends’  Society,  and  wholly  indisposed 
to  accept  the  inner  light  ” as  a guide  into  a life  of  accept- 
ance and  inaction.  When  Margaret  told  her  husband  of 
Euth’s  newest  project,  he  did  not  exhibit  so  much  surprise  as 
she  looked  for.  In  fact  he  said  that  he  did  not  see  why  a 
woman  should  not  enter  tl^e  medical  profession  if  she  felt  a 
call  to  it. 

“ But,”  said  Margaret,  “ consider  her  total  inexperience  of 
the  world,  and  her  frail  health.  Can  such  a slight  little  body' 
endure  the  ordeal  of  the  preparation  for,  or  the  strain  of,  th@ 
practice  of  the  profession  ?” 

. ‘‘  Bid  thee  ever  think,  Margaret,  whether  she  can  endure 
being  thwarted  in  an  object  on  wliich  she  has  so  set  her  heart, 
as  she  has  on  this  ? Thee  has  trained  her  thyself  at  home,  irt 
her  enfeebled  childhood,  and  thee  knows  how  strong  her  will 
is,  and  what  she  has  been  able  to  accomplish  in  self-culture  by 
the  simple  force  of  her  determination.  She  never  will  be 
satisfied  until  she  has  tried  her  own  strength.” 

“I  wish,”  said  Margaret,  with  an  inconsequence  that  is  not 
exclusively  feminine,  “ that  she  were  in  the  way  to  fall  in 
love  and  marry  by  and  by.  I think  that  would  cure  her  of 

139 


140 


RAIL  ROAD  CONTRACTORS. 


;Some  of  her  notions.  I am  not  sure  but  if  she  went  away  to 
,«ome  distant  school,  into  an  entirely  new  life,  her  thoughts 
would  be  diverted.” 

Eli  Bolton  almost  laughed  as  he  regarded  his  wife,  with 
eyes  that  never  looked  at  her  except  fondly,  and  replied. 

Perhaps  thee  remembers  that  thee  had  notions  also,  before 
we  were  married,  and  before  thee  became  a member  of 
Meeting.  I think  Puth  comes  honestly  by  certain  tendencies 
which  thee  has  hidden  under  the  Friend’s  dress.” 

Margaret  could  not  say  no  to  this,  and  while  she  paused,  it 
was  evident  that  memory  was  busy  with  suggestions  to  shake 
her  present  opinions. 

Why  not  let  Puth  try  the  study  for  a time,”  suggested 
Eli ; there  is  a fair  beginning  of  a Woman’s  Medical  College 
in  the  city.  Quite  likely  she  will  soon  find  that  she  needs 
first  a more  general  culture,  and  fall  in  with  thy  wish  that 
she  should  see  more  of  the  world  at  some  large  school.” 

There  really  seemed  to  be  nothing  else  to  be  done,  and 
Margaret  consented  at  length  without  approving.  And  it  was 
agreed  that  Puth,  in  order  to  spare  her  fatigue,  should  take 
lodgings  with  friends  near  the  college  and  make  a trial  in  the 
pursuit  of  that  science  to  which  we  all  owe  our  lives,  and 
sometimes  as  by  a miracle  of  escape. 

That  day  Mr.  Bolton  brought  home  a stranger  to  dinner, 
Mr.  Bigler  of  the  great  firm  of  Pennybacker,  Bigler  & Small, 
railroad  contractors.  He  was  always  bringing  home  some- 
body, who  had  a scheme  ; to  build  a road,  or  open  a mine,  or 
plant  a swamp  with  cane  to  grow  paper-stock,  or  found  a 
hospital,  or  invest  in  a patent  shad-bone  separator,  or  start  a 
college  somewhere  on  the  frontier,  contiguous  to  a land 
speculation. 

The  Bolton  house  was  a sort  of  hotel  for  this  kind  of  people. 
They  w^ere  always  coming.  Puth  had  known  them  from 
<jhildhood,  and  she  used  to  say  that  her  father  attracted  tliem 
as  naturally  as  a sugar  hogshead  does  flies.  Puth  had  an  idea 
that  a large  portion  of  tlie  world  lived  by  getting  the  rest  of 
the  world  into  schemes.  Mr.  Bolton  never  could  say  ‘‘  no  ” 


THE  FIRST  CHANCE  IN  THE  DEAL. 


141 


to  any  of  tliem,  not  even,  said  Ruth  again,  to  the  society  for 
stamping  oyster  shells  with  scripture  texts  before  they  were 
sold  at  retail. 

Mr.  Bigler’s  plan  this  time,  about  which  he  talked 
loudly,  with  his  mouth  full,  all  dinner  time,  was  the  buildr 
ing  of  the  Tunkhannock,  Rattlesnake  and  Youngwomans- 
town  railroad,  which  would  not  only  be  a great  highway  to 
the  west,  but  would  open  to  market  inexhaustible  coal-fields 
and  untold  millions  of  lumber.  The  plan  of  operations 
was  very  simple. 

‘‘We’ll  buy  the  lands,”  explained  he,  “ on  long  time,  backed 
by  the  notes  of  good  men;  and  then  mortgage  them  for 
money  enough  to  get  the  road  well  on.  Then  get  the  towns 
on  the  line  to  issue  their  bonds  for  stock,  and  sell  their  bonds 
for  enough  to  complete  the  road,  and  partly  stock  it,  especially 
if  we  mortgage  each  section  as  we  complete  it.  We  can  then 
sell  the  rest  of  the  stock  on  the  prospect  of  the  business  of 
the  road  through  an  improved  country,  and  also  sell  the  lands 
at  a big  advance,  on  the  strength  of  the  road.  All  ^vewant,” 
continued  Mr.  Bigler  in  his  frank  manner,  “is  a few  thousand 
dollars  to  start  the  surveys,  and  arrange  things  in  the  legisla- 
ture. There  is  some  parties  will  have  to  be  seen,  who  might 
make  us  trouble.” 

“ It  will  take  a good  deal  of  money  to  start  the  enterprise,’^ 
remarked  Mr.  Bolton,  who  knew  very  well  what  “ seeing  ” a 
Pennsylvania  Legislature  meant,  but  was  too  polite  to  tell  Mr. 
Bigler  what  he  thought  of  him,  while  he  was  his  guest ; “ what 
security  would  one  have  for  it  ?” 

Mr.  Bigler  smiled  a hard  kind  of  smile,  and  said,  “You’d 
be  inside,  Mr.  Bolton,  and  you’d  have  the  first  chance  in 
the  deal.” 

This  was  rather  unintelligible  to  Ruth,  who  was  nevertheless- 
somewhat  amused  by  the  study  of  a type  of  character  she  had 
seen  before.  At  length  she  interrupted  the  conversation  by 
asking, 

“ You’d  sell  the  stock,  I suppose,  Mr.  Bigler,  to  anybody 
who  was  attracted  by  the  prospectus  ?” 


142 


SEEING  THE  LEGISLATUKE. 


O,  certainly,  serve  all  alike,”  said  Mr.  Bigler,  now  notic- 
ing Until  for  the  first  time,  and  a little  puzzled  by  the  serene, 
intelligent  face  that  was  turned  towards  him. 

“Well,  what  would  become  of  the  poor  people  who  had 
been  led  to  put  their  little  money  into  the  speculation,  when 
jou  got  out  of  it  and  left  it  half  way  ? ” 

It  would  be  no  more  true  to  say  of  Mr.  Bigler  that  he  was 
<or  could  be  embarrassed,  than  to  say  that  a brass  counterfeit 
•dollar-piece  would  change  color  when  refused;  the  question 
.annoyed  him  a little,  in  Mr.  Bolton’s  presence. 

“ Why,  yes.  Miss,  of  course,  in  a great  enterprise  for  the 
benefit  of  the  community  there  will  little  things  occur,  which, 
which — and,  of  course,  the  poor  ought  to  be  looked  to ; I tell 


CARING  FOR  THE  POOR. 


my  wife,  that  the  poor  must  he  looked  to ; if  yon  can  tell 
who  are  poor — there’s  so  many  impostors.  And  then,  there’s 


HIGH  PRICE  OF  SENATORS. 


143 


SO  many  poor  in  the  legislature  to  be  looked  after,”  said  the 
contractor  with  a sort  of  a chuckle,  isn’t  that  so,  Mr. 
Bolton?” 

Eli  Bolton  replied  that  he  never  had  much  to  do  with  the 
legislature. 

“Yes,”  continued  this  public  benefactor,  “an  uncommon 
poor  lot  this  year,  uncommon.  Consequently  an  expensive 
lot.  The  fact  is,  Mr.  Bolton,  that  the  price  is  raised  so  high 
on  United  States  Senator  now,  that  it  affects  the  whole  mar- 
ket ; you  can’t  get  any  public  improvement  through  on 
reasonable  terms.  Simony  is  what  I call  it,  Simony,”  repeated' 
Mr.  Bigler,  as  if  he  had  said  a good  thing. 

Mr.  Bigler  went  on  and  gave  some  very  interesting  details 
of  the  intimate  connection  between  railroads  and  politics,  and 
thoroughly  entertained  himself  all  dinner  time,  and  as  much 
disgusted  Buth,  who  asked  no  more  questions,  and  her  father 
who  replied  in  monosyllables. 

“ I wish,”  said  Ruth  to  her  father,  after  the  guest  had 
gone,  “that  you  wouldn’t  bring  home  any  more  such  horrid 
men.  Do  all  men  who  wear  big  diamond  breast-pins,  flourish 
their  knives  at  table,  and  use  bad  grammar,  and  cheat  ? ” 

“ O,  child,  thee  mustn’t  be  too  observing.  Mr.  Bigler  is 
one  of  the  most  important  men  in  the  state ; nobody  has 
more  influence  at  Harrisburg.  I don’t  like  him  any  more 
than  thee  does,  but  I’d  better  lend  him  a little  money  than 
to  have  his  ill  will.” 

“ Father,  I think  thee’d  better  have  his  ill-will  than  his 
company.  Is  it  true  that  he  gave  money  to  help  build  the 
pretty  little  church  of  St.  James  the  Less,  and  that  he  is  one 
of  the  vestrymen  ? ” 

“Yes.  He  is  not  such  a bad  fellow.  One  of  the  men  in 
Third  street  asked  him  the  other  day,  whether  his  was  a high 
church  or  a low  church  ? Bigler  said  he  didn’t  know ; he’d 
been  in  it  once,  and  he  could  touch  the  ceiling  in  the  side 
aisle  with  his  hand.” 

“I  think  he’s  just  horrid,”  was  Ruth’s  flnal  summary  of 
him,  after  the  manner  of  the  swift  judgment  of  women,  with 


144 


RUTH  AS  A STUDENT. 


no  consideration  of  the  extenuating  circumstances.  Mr. 
Bigler  had  no  idea  that  he  had  not  made  a good  impression 
on  the  whole  family  ; he  certainly  intended  to  be  agreeable. 
Margaret  agreed  with  her  daughter,  an  J though  she  never 
said  anything  to  such  people,  she  was  grateful  to  Euth  for 
sticking  at  least  one  pin  into  him. 

Such  was  the  serenity  of  the  Bolton  household  that  a stran- 
ger in  it  would  never  have  suspected  there  was  any  opposition 
to  Ruth’s  going  to  the  Medical  School.  And  she  went 
quietly  to  take  her  residence  in  town,  and  began  her  attend- 
ance of  the  lectures,  as  if  it  were  the  most  natural  thing  in 
the  world.  She  did  not  heed,  if  she  heard,  the  busy  and 
wondering  gossip  of  relations  and  acquaintances,  gossip  that 
has  no  less  currency  among  the  Friends  than  elsewhere 
because  it  is  whispered  slyly  and  creeps  about  in  an  under- 
tone. 

Ruth  was  absorbed,  and  for  the  first  time  in  her  life 
thoroughly  happy  ; happy  in  the  freedom  of  her  life,  and  in 
the  keen  enjoyment  of  the  investigation  that  broadened  its 
field  day  by  day.  She  was  in  high  spirits  when  she  came 
home  to  spend  First  Days ; the  house  was  full  of  her  gaiety 
and  her  merry  laugh,  and  the  children  wished  that  Ruth 
would  never  go  away  again.  But  her  mother  noticed,  wdth 
a little  anxiety,  the  sometimes  flushed  face,  and  the  sign  of 
an  eager  spirit  in  the  kindling  eyes,  and,  as  well,  the  serious 
air  of  determination  and  endurance  in  her  face  at  unguarded 
moments. 

The  college  was  a small  one  and  it  sustained  itself  not 
without  difficulty  in  this  city,  which  is  so  conservative,  and  is 
yet  the  origin  of  so  many  radical  movements.  There  were 
not  more  than  a dozen  attendants  on  the  lectures  all  together, 
so  that  the  enterprise  had  the  air  of  an  experiment,  and  the 
fascination  of  pioneering  for  those  engaged  in  it.  There  was 
one  woman  physician  driving  about  town  in  her  carriage, 
attacking  the  most  violent  diseases  in  all  quarters  with  per- 
sistent courage,  like  a modern  Bellona  in  her  war  chariot^ 
who  was  popularly  supposed  to  gather  in  fees  to  the  amount 


A FEMALE  SAW  BONES. 


145 


of  ten  to  twenty  thousand  dollars  a year.  Perhaps  some  of 
these  students  looked  forward  to  the  near  day  when  they 
would  support  such  a practice  and  a husband  besides,  but  it  is 
unknown  that  any  of  them  ever  went  further  than  practice  in 
hospitals  and  in  their  own  nurseries,  and  it  is  feared  that  some 
of  them  were  quite  as  ready  as  their  sisters,  in  emergencies, 
to  call  a man.” 

If  Kuth  had  any  exaggerated  expectations  of  a professional 
life,  she  kept  them  to  herself,  and  was  known  to  her  fellows 
of  the  class  simply  as  a cheerful,  sincere  student,  eager  in  her 
investigations,  and  never  impatient  at  anything,  except  an 
insinuation  that  women  had  not  as  much  mental  capacity  for 
science  as  men. 

They  really  say,”  said  one  young  Quaker  sprig  to  another 


youth  of  his  age,  “ that  Kuth  Bolton  is  really  going  to  be  a 
saw-bones,  attends  lectures,  cuts  up  bodies,  and  all  that.  She’s 
cool  enough  for  a surgeon,  anyway.”  He  spoke  feelingly, 
for  he  had  very  likely  been  weighed  in  Kuth’s  calm  eyes 
10- 


ANATOMICAL  INVESTIGATIONS. 


14:6 


STUDYING  ANATOMY. 


sometime,  and  tboronghl}^  scared  by  the  little  laugh  that 
accompanied  a puzzling  reply  to  one  of  his  conversational 
nothings.  Such  young  gentlemen,  at  this  time,  did  not  come 
very  distinctly  into  Euth’s  horizon,  except  as  amusing  circum- 
stances. 

About  the  details  of  her  student  life,  Euth  said  very  little 
to  her  friends,  but  they  had  reason  to  know,  afterwards,  that 
it  required  all  her  nerve  and  the  almost  complete  exhaustion 
of  her  physical  strength,  to  carry  her  through.  She  began 
her  anatomical  practice  upon  detached  portions  of  the  human 
frame,  which  were  brought  into  the  demonstrating  room — 
dissecting  the  eye,  the  ear,  and  a small  tangle  of  muscles 
and  nerves — an  occupation  which  had  not  much  more  savor 
of  death  in  it  than  the  analysis  of  a portion  of  a plant  out  of 
which  the  life  went  when  it  was  plucked  up  by  the  roots. 
Custom  inures  the  most  sensitive  persons  to  that  which  is  at 
first  most  repellant  5 and  in  the  late  war  we  saw  the  most 
delicate  women,  who  could  not  at  home  endure  the  sight  of 
blood,  become  so  used  to  scenes  of  carnage,  that  they  walked  ^ 
the  hospitals  and  the  margins  of  battle-fields,  amid  the  poor 
remnants  of  torn  humanity,  with  as  perfect  self-possession 
as  if  they  w^ere  strolling  in  a flower  garden. 

It  happened  that  Euth  was  one  evening  deep  in  a line  of 
investifi^ation  which  she  could  not  finish  or  understand  "v^ith- 
out  demonstration,  and  so  eager  was  she  in  it,  that  it  seemed 
as  if  she  could  not  wait  till  the  next  day.  She,  therefore, 
persuaded  a fellow  student,  who  was  reading  that  evening 
with  her,  to  go  down  to  the  dissecting  room  of  the  college, 
and  ascertain  what  they  wanted  to  know  by  an  hour’s  work 
there.  Perhaps,  also,  Euth  wanted  to  test  her  own  nerve, 
and  to  see  whether  the  power  of  association  was  stronger  in 
her  mind  than  her  own  will. 

The  janitor  of  the  shabby  and  comfortless  old  building 
admitted  the  girls,  not  without  suspicion,  and  gave  them 
lighted  candles,  which  they  would  need,  without  other  remark 
than  there’s  a new  one.  Miss,”  as  the  girls  went  up  the 
broad  stairs. 

They  climbed  to  the  third  story,  and  paused  before  a door, 


”•  :,V- 


;*.  .4>'>. 


la.;;-' 


‘'m'  ... 

■Sc..  ; 


s'l  , j 


, -,  .'„  ‘ OF -THE. 

a^dai:;,  •,■- ,',.  v''  .-J^^VERSiry.  OF  iLLiKO? 

■■,  .)■  '■/  . ' .'■  '■■ 

’ • 'y.v.»',  ..'''f4.V:;-;‘iU.T'‘'?- 

I - ’ ■ / ^ ■ V ;■  . ' ' ■ *■  .•  * 

- ■■  ■ '..■,,, 


J'  IK  V i 


't  ,i,! . ’2^^' 1*^4! 


J*  *• 


-‘g  - 

’ • aCI  , 


I.' 


»■  . . X, 

X • i ! 


,1.  •. 


I .'■S.'.vfs;- 


rr‘.; 


'■  K:  ' '■ 
’ Sl'  - 


^-.7 


. •», 


,*'■■■/ 


«=# 

'i- 


Vi' ; 

a: 


: te^-i  . I r 


KUTH  LOOKING  AT  TUB  *‘NBW  OWE”  UY  CAIIDLK  UGHT.  ^ 


A DISSECTING  ROOM  BY  CANDLE  LIGHT. 


147 


’which  they  unlocked,  and  which  admitted  them  into  a long 
;apartment,  with  a row  of  windows  on  one  side  and  one  at  the 
end.  The  room  was  without  light,  save  from  the  stars  and 
the  candles  the  girls  carried,  which  revealed  to  them  dimly 
two  long  and  several  small  tables,  a few  benches  and  chairs, 
a couple  of  skeletons  hanging  on  the  wall,  a sink,  and  cloth- 
covered  heaps  of  something  upon  the  tables  here  and  there. 

The  windows  were  open,  and  the  cool  night  wind  came  in 
strong  enough  to  flutter  a white  covering  now  and  then,  and 
to  shake  the  loose  casements.  But  all  the  sweet  odors  of  the 
night  could  not  take  from  the  room  a faint  suggestion  of 
mortality. 

The  young  ladies  paused  a moment.  The  room  itself  was 
familiar  enough,  but  night  makes  almost  any  chamber  eerie, 
and  especially  such  a room  of  detention  as  this  where  the 
mortal  parts  of  the  unburied  might  almost  be  supposed  to  be 
visited,  on  the  sighing  night  winds,  by  the  wandering  spirits 
of  their  late  tenants. 

Opposite  and  at  some  distance  across  the  roofs  of  lower 
buildings,  the  girls  saw  a tall  edifice,  the  long  upper  story 
of  which  seemed  to  be  a dancing  hall.  The  windo^vs  of  that 
were  also  open,  and  through  them  they  heard  the  scream  of 
the  jiggered  and  tortured  violin,  and  the  pump,  pump  of  the 
oboe,  and  saw  the  moving  shapes  of  men  and  women  in  quick 
transition,  and  heard  the  prompter’s  drawl. 

‘‘I  wonder,”  said  Ruth,  what  the  girls  dancing  there 
would  think  if  they  saw  us,  or  knew  that  there  was  such  a 
room  as  this  so  near  them.” 

She  did  not  speak  very  loud,  and,  perhaps  unconsciously, 
the  girls  drew  near  to  each  other  as  they  approached  the  long 
table  in  the  centre  of  the  room.  A straight  object  lay  upon 
it,  covered  with  a sheet.  This  was  doubtless  “ the  new  one  ” 
of  which  the  janitor  spoke.  Ruth  advanced,  and  with  a not 
very  steady  hand  lifted  the  white  covering  from  the  upper 
part  of  the  figure  and  turned  it  down.  Both  the  girls  started. 
It  was  a negro.  The  black  face  seemed  to  defy  the  pallor  of 
<ieath,  and  asserted  an  ugly  life-likeness  that  was  frightful. 


US 


*‘WHO  IS  THE  DEAD  MAN? 


Buth  was  as  pale  as  the  white  sheet,  and  her  comrade  whis- 
pered, “ Come  away,  Ruth,  it  is  awful.” 

Perhaps  it  was  the  wavering  light  of  the  candles,  perhaps 
it  was  only  the  agony  from  a death  of  pain,  but  the  repulsive 
black  face  seemed  to  wear  a scowl  that  said,  Haven’t  you 
yet  done  with  the  outcast,  persecuted  black  man,  but  you  must 
now  haul  him  from  his  grave,  and  send  even  your  women  to 
dismember  his  body 

Who  is  this  dead  man,  one  of  thousands  who  died  yester- 
day, and  will  be  dust  anon,  to  protest  that  science  shall  not 
turn  his  worthless  carcass  to  some  account  ? 

Ruth  could  have  had  no  such  thought,  for  with  a pity  in 
her  sweet  face,  that  for  the  moment  overcame  fear  and  dis- 
gust, she  reverently  replaced  the  covering,  and  went  away  to 
her  own  table,  as  her  companion  did  to  hers.  And  there  for 
an  hour  they  worked  at  their  several  problems,  without 
speaking,  but  not  without  an  awe  of  the  presence  there,  the 
new  one,”  and  not  without  an  awful  sense  of  life  itself,  as 
they  heard  the  pulsations  of  the  music  and  the  light  laughter 
from  the  dancing-hall. 

When,  at  length,  they  went  away,  and  locked  the  dreadful 
room  behind  them,  and  came  out  into  the  street,  where  people 
were  passing,  they,  for  the  first  time,  realized,  in  the  relief 
they  felt,  what  a nervous  strain  they  had  been  under. 


CHAPTER  XYI. 


Todtenh  117.  1.3. 


ILE  Ruth  was  thus  absorbed  in  her  new  occu- 


W pation,  and  the  spring  was  wearing  away,  Philip 
and  his  friends  were  still  detained  at  the  Southern 
Hotel.  The  great  contractors  had  concluded  their  business 
with  the  state  and  railroad  officials  and  with  the  lesser  con- 
tractors, and  departed  for  the  East.  But  the  serious  illness 
of  one  of  the  engineers  kept  Philip  and  Henry  in  the  city 
and  occupied  in  alternate  watchings. 

Philip  wrote  to  Ruth  of  the  new  acquaintance  they  had 
made.  Col.  Sellers,  an  enthusiastic  and  hospitable  gentleman, 
very  much  interested  in  the  development  of  the  country,  and 
in  their  success.  They  had  not  had  an  opportunity  to  visit 
at  his  place  ‘‘up  in  the  country  ” yet,  but  the  Colonel  often 
dined  with  them,  and  in  confidence,  confided  to  them  his  pro- 
jects, and  seemed  to  take  a great  liking  to  them,  especially 
to  his  friend  Harry.  It  was  true  that  he  never  seemed  to 
have  ready  money,  but  he  was  engaged  in  very  large  opera- 


tions. 


The  correspondence  was  not  very  brisk  between  these  two 
young  persons,  so  differently  occupied;  for  though  Philip 
wrote  long  letters,  he  got  brief  ones  in  reply,'  full  of  sharp 
little  observations  however,  such  as  one  concerning  Col.  Sel- 
lers, namely,  that  such  men  dined  at  their  house  every  week. 

Ruth’s  proposed  occuj)ation  astonished  Philip  immensely, 


149 


150 


LIFE  AT  ST.  LOUIS. 


but  while  he  argued  it  and  discussed  it,  he  did  not  dare  hint  tc^ 
her  his  fear  that  it  would  interfere  with  his  most  cherished 
plans.  He  too  sincerely  respected  Kuth’s  judgment  to  make 
any  protest,  however,  and  he  v/ould  have  defended  her 
course  against  the  world. 

This  enforced  waiting  at  St.  Louis  was  very  irksome  to 
Philip.  His  money  was  running  away,  for  one  thing,  and  he 
longed  to  get  into  the  held,  and  see  for  himself  wliat  chance 
there  was  for  a fortune  or  even  an  occupation.  The  con- 
tractors had  given  the  young  men  leave  to  join  the  engineer 
corps  as  soon  as  they  could,  hut  otherwise  had  made  no  pro- 
vision for  them,  and  in  fact  had  left  them  with  only  the  most 
indehnite  expectations  of  something  large  in  the  future. 

Harry  was  entirely  happy,  in  his  circumstances.  He  very 
soon  knew  everybody,  from  the  governor  of  the  state  down 
to  the  waiters  at  the  hotel.  He  had  the  Wall  street  slanp-  at 
his  tongue’s  end ; he  always  talked  like  a capitalist,  and 
entered  with  enthusiasm  into  all  the  land  and  railway  schemeN^ 
with  which  the  air  was  thick. 

Col.  Sellers  and  Harry  talked  together  by  the  hour  and  by 
the  day.  Harry  informed  his  new  friend  that  he  was  going, 
out  with  the  engineer  corps  of  the  Salt  Lick  Pacific  Exten- 
sion, but  that  wasn’t  his  real  business. 

“ I’m  to  have,  with  another  party,”  said  Harry,  “ a big; 
contract  in  the  road,  as  soon  as  it  is  let ; and,  meantime,  I’m 
with  the  engineers  to  spy  out  the  best  land  and  the  depot 
sites.” 

‘Ht’s  everything,”  suggested  the  Colonel,  “in  knowing 
where  to  invest.  I’ve  known  people  throw  away  their  money 
because  they  were  too  consequential  to  take  Sellers’  advice.. 
Others,again,  have  made  their  pile  on  taking  it.  I’ve  looked 
over  the  ground,  I’ve  been  studying  it  for  twenty  years., 
You  can’t  put  your  finger  on  a spot  in  the  map  of  Missouri 
that  I don’t  know  as  if  I’d  made  it.  When  you  w^ant  to  place- 
anything,”  continued  the  Colonel,  confidently,  “ just  let 
Periah  Sellers  know.  That’s  all.” 

“ Oh,  I haven’t  got  much  in  ready  money  I can  lay  my 


A WELL-MATCHED  PAIR. 


151 


hands  on  now,  but  if  a fellow  could  do  anything  with  fifteen 
or  twenty  thousand  dollars,  as  a beginning,  I shall  draw  for 
that  when  I see  the  right  opening.” 

Well,  that’s  something,  that’s  something,  fifteen  or  twenty 
thousand  dollars,  say  twenty — as  an  advance,”  said  the  Col- 
onel refiectively,  as  if  turning  over  his  mind  for  a project 
that  could  be  entered  on  with  such  a trifling  sum. 

“ I’ll  tell  you  what  it  is — but  only  to  you  Mr.  Brierly,  only 


“only  for  you,  brierly.” 


to  you,  mind  ; I’ve  got  a little  project  that  I’ve  been  keeping. 
It  looks  small,  looks  small  on  paper,  but  it’s  got  a big  future. 
What  should  you  say,  sir,  to  a city,  built  up  like  the  rod  of 
Aladdin  had  touched  it,  built  up  in  two  years,  where  now  you 
wouldn’t  expect  it  any  more  than  you’d  expect  a light-house 
on  the  top  of  Pilot  Knob?  and  you  could  own  the  land! 
It  can  be  done,  sir.  It  can  be  done  1 ” 

The  Colonel  hitched  up  his  chair  close  to  Harry,  laid  his 
hand  on  his  knee,  and,  first  looking  about  him,  said  in  a low 
voice,  “ The  Salt  Lick  Pacific  Extension  is  going  to  run 
through  Stone’s  Landing  I The  Almighty  never  laid  out  a 
cleaner  piece  of  level  prairie  for  a city ; and  it’s  the  natural 
center  of  all  that  region  of  hemp  and  tobacco.” 

“What  makes  you  think  the  road  will  go  there?  It’s 


152 


EVERYBODY’S  FAVORITE. 


twenty  miles,  on  the  map,  off  the  straight  line  of  the  road  ? ” 

“ You  can’t  tell  what  is  the  straight  line  till  the  engineers 
have  been  over  it.  Between  us,  I have  talked  wdth  Jeff, 
Thompson,  the  division  engineer.  He  understands  the  wants 
of  Stone’s  Landing,  and  the  claims  of  the  iu habitants — who 
are  to  be  there.  Jeff  says  that  a railroad  is  for  the  accommo- 
dation of  the  people  and  not  for  the  benefit  of  gophers ; and 
if  he  don’t  run  this  to  Stone’s  Landing  he’ll  be  damned ! 
You  ought  to  know  Jeff;  he’s  one  of  the  most  enthusiastic 
engineers  in  this  western  country,  and  one  of  the  best  fellows 
that  ever  looked  through  the  bottom  of  a glass.” 

The  recommendation  was  not  undeserved.  There  was 
nothing  that  Jeff  wouldn’t  do,  to  accommodate  a friend,  from 
sharing  his  last  dollar  with  him,  to  winging  him  in  a duel. 
When  he  understood  from  Col.  Sellers  how  the  land  lay  at 
Stone’s  Landing,  he  cordially  shook  hands  with  that  gentle- 
man, asked  him  to  drink,  and  fairly  roared  out,  Why,  God 
bless  my  soul.  Colonel,  a word  from  one  Virginia  gentleman 
to  another  is  ‘ nuff  ced.’  There’s  Stone’s  Landing  been  wait- 
ing for  a railroad  more  than  four  thousand  years,  and  damme 
if  she  shan’t  have  it.” 

Philip  had  not  so  much  faith  as  Harry  in  Stone’s  Landing, 
when  the  latter  opened  the  project  to  him,  but  Harry  talked 
about  it  as  if  he  already  owned  that  incipient  city. 

Harry  thoroughly  believed  in  all  his  projects  and  inven- 
tions, and  lived  day  by  day  in  their  golden  atmosphere. 
Everybody  liked  the  young  fellow,  for  how'  could  they  help 
liking  one  of  such  engaging  manners  and  large  fortune  ? The 
waiters  at  the  hotel  would  do  more  for  him  than  for  any  other 
guest,  and  he  made  a great  many  acquaintances  among  the 
people  of  St.  Louis,  who  liked  his  sensible  and  liberal  views 
about  the  development  of  the  w'estern  country,  and  about  St. 
Louis.  He  said  it  ought  to  be  the  national  capital.  Harry 
made  partial  arrangements  wdth  several  of  the  merchants  for 
furnishing  supplies  for  his  contract  on  the  Salt  Lick  Pacific 
Extension ; consulted  the  maps  wfith  the  engineers,  and  went 
over  the  profiles  with  the  contractors,  figuring  out  estimates 


A TIGHT  PLACE. 


153 


for  bids.  He  was  exceedingly  busy  with  those  things  when 
he  was  not  at  the  bedside  of  his  sick  acquaintance,  or  arrang- 
ing the  details  of  his  speculation  with  Col.  Sellers. 

Meantime  the  days  w’ent  along  and  the  weeks,  and  the 
money  in  Harry’s  pocket  got  lower  and  lower.  He  was  just 
as  liberal  with  what  he  had  as  before,  indeed  it  was  his  nature 
to  be  free  with  his  money  or  with  that  of  others,  and  he 
could  lend  or  spend  a dollar  with  an  air  that  made  it  seem 
like  ten.  At  length,  at  the  end  of  one  week,  when  his  hotel 
bill  was  presented,  Harry  found  not  a cent  in  his  pocket  to 
meet  it.  He  carelessly  remarked  to  the  landlord  that  he  was 
not  that  day  in  funds,  but  he  would  draw  on  New  York,  and 
he  sat  down  and  wrote  to  the  contractors  in  that  city  a glow- 
ing letter  about  the  prospects  of  the  road,  and  asked  them  to 
advance  a hundred  or  two,  until  he  got  at  w'ork.  No  reply 
came.  He  wrote  again,  in  an  unoffended  business  like  tone, 
suggesting  that  he  had  better  draw  at  three  days.  A short 
answer  came  to  this,  simply  saying  that  money  was  very  tight 
in  Wall  street  just  then,  and  that  he  had  better  join  the 
engineer  corps  as  soon  as  he  could. 

But  the  bill  had  to  be  paid,  and  Harry  took  it  to  Philip, 
and  asked  him  if  he  thought  he  hadn’t  better  draw  on  his 
Tincle.  Philip  had  not  much  faith  in  Harry’s  power  of 

drawing,”  and  told  him  that  he  would  pay  the  bill  himself. 
Whereupon  Harry  dismissed  the  matter  then  and  thereafter 
from  his  thoughts,  and,  like  a light-hearted  good  fellow  as  he 
was,  gave  himself  no  more  trouble  about  his  board-bills. 
Philip  paid  them,  sw^ollen  as  they  were  with  a monstrous  list 
of  extras ; but  he  seriously  counted  the  diminishing  bulk  of 
his  own  hoard,  which  was  all  the  money  he  had  in  the  world. 
Had  he  not  tacitly  agreed  to  share  with  Harry  to  the  last  in 
this  adventure,  and  would  not  the  generous  fellow  divide 
with  him  if  he,  Philip,  were  in  want  and  Harry  had  anything? 

The  fever  at  length  got  tired  of  tormenting  the  stout  young 
engineer,  who  lay  sick  at  the  hotel,  and  left  him,  very  thin,  a 
little  sallow  but  an  “acclimated”  man.  Everybody  said  he 
was  “ acclimated  ” now,  and  said  it  cheerfully.  What  it  is  to 
be  acclimated  to  western  fevers  no  two  persons  exactly  agree. 


154: 


TWENTY-FIVE  MISSOURI  EARTHQUAKES. 


Some  say  it  is  a sort  of  vaccination  that  renders  death  by  some 
malignant  type  of  fever  less  probable.  Some  regard  it  as  a sort 

of  initiation,  like  that  into 
the  Odd  Fellows,  which 
renders  one  liable  to  his 
regular  dues  thereafter. 
Others  consider  it  merely 
the  acquisition  of  a habit 
of  taking  every  morning 
before  breakfast  a dose  of 
bitters,  composed  of  whiskey 
and  assafoetida,  out  of  the 
acclimation  jug. 

Jeff  Thompson  afterwards 
told  Philip  that  he  once 
asked  Senator  Atchison, 
then  acting  Yice-Presideni; 
of  the  United  States,  about- 
the  possibility  of  acclima- 
AN  ACCLIMATED  MAN.  tiou ; ho  thought  tlio  opin  * 

ion  of  the  second  officer  of  our  great  government  would  be 
valuable  on  this  point.  They  were  sitting  together  on  a 
bench  before  a country  tavern,  in  the  free  converse  permitted 
by  our  democratic  habits. 

“ I suppose.  Senator,  that  you  have  become  acclimated  ta 
this  country  ? ” 

“Well,”  said  the  Vice-President,  crossing  his  legs,  pulling 
his  wide-awake  down  over  his  forehead,  causing  a passing 
chicken  to  hop  quickly  one  side  by  the  accuracy  of  his  aim^ 
and  speaking  with  senatorial  deliberation,  “ I think  I have. 
IVe  been  here  twenty-five  years,  and  dash,  dash  my  dash 
to  dash,  if  I haven’t  entertained  twenty-five  separate  and  dis- 
tinct earthquakes,  one  a year.  The  niggro  is  the  only  person 
who  can  stand  the  fever  and  ague  of  this  region.” 

The  convalescence  of  the  engineer  was  the  signal  for  break- 
ing up  quarters  at  St.  Louis,  and  the  young  fortune-hunters 
started  up  the  river  in  good  spirits.  It  was  only  the  second 
time  either  of  them  had  been  upon  a Mississippi  steamboat, 


ONCE  MORE  AFLOAT. 


15S 


and  nearly  everything  they  saw  had  the  charm  of  novelty. 
Col.  Sellers  was  at  the  landing  to  bid  them  good-bye. 

I shall  send  you  up  that  basket  of  champagne  by  the 
next  boat ; no,  no ; no  thanks ; you’ll  find  it  not  bad  in 
camp,”  he  cried  out  as  the  plank  was  hauled  in.  “ My 
respects  to  Thompson.  Tell  him  to  sight  for  Stone’s.  Let 


me  know,  Mr.  Brierly,  when  you  are  ready  to  locate;  I’ll 
come  over  from  Hawkeye.  Good-bye.” 

And  the  last  the  young  fellows  saw  of  the  Colonel,  he  was 
waving  his  hat,  and  beaming  prosperity  and  good  luck. 

The  voyage  was  delightful,  and  was  not  long  enough  to 
become  monotonous.  The  travelers  scarcely  had  time  indeed 
to  get  accustomed  to  the  splendors  of  the  great  saloon  where 
the  tables  were  spread  for  meals,  a marvel  of  paint  and  gilding, 
its  ceiling  hung  with  fancifully  cut  tissue-paper  of  many 
colors,  festooned  and  arranged  in  endless  patterns.  The 
whole  was  more  beautiful  than  a barber’s  shop.  The  printed 
bill  of  fare  at  dinner  was  longer  and  more  varied,  the 


156 


OVEK  THE  PRAIKIES. 


proprietors  justly  boasted,  than  that  of  any  hotel  in  Kew  York. 
It  must  have  been  the  work  of  an  author  of  talent  and  imagi- 
nation, and  it  surely  was  not  his  fault  if  the  dinner  itself  was 
to  a certain  extent  a delusion,  and  if  the  guests  got  something 
that  tasted  pretty  much  the  same  whatever  dish  they  ordered  ; 
nor  was  it  his  fault  if  a general  flavor  of  rose  in  all  the  dessert 
•dishes  suggested  that  they  had  passed  through  the  barber’s 
•saloon  on  their  way  from  the  kitchen. 

The  travelers  landed  at  a little  settlement  on  the  left  bank, 
and  at  once  took  horses  for  the  camp  in  the  interior,  carrying 
their  clothes  and  blankets  strapped  behind  the  saddles.  Harry 
was  dressed  as  we  have  seen  him  once  before,  and  his  long 
and  shining  boots  attracted  not  a little  the  attention  of  the 
few  persons  they  met  on  the  road,  and  especially  of  the  bright 
faced  wenches  who  lightly  stepped  along  the  highway,  pic- 
turesque in  their  colored  kerchiefs,  carrying  light  baskets,  or 
riding  upon  mules  and  balancing  before  them  a heavier  load. 

Harry  sang  fragments  of  operas  and  talked  about  their  for- 
tune. Philip  even  was  excited  by  the  sense  of  freedom  and 
adventure,  and  the  beauty  of  the  landscape.  The  prairie, 
with  its  new  grass  and  unending  acres  of  brilliant  flowers — 
•chiefly  the  innumerable  varieties  of  phlox — bore  the  look  of 
jears  of  cultivation,  and  the  occasional  open  groves  of  white 
oaks  gave  it  a park-like  appearance.  It  was  hardly  unreason- 
able to  expect  to  see  at  any  moment,  the  gables  and  square  win- 
dows of  an  Elizabethan  mansion  in  one  of  the  well  kept  groves. 

Towards  sunset  of  the  third  clay,  when  the  young  gentle- 
men thought  they  ought  to  be  near  the  town  of  Magnolia, 
near  which  they  had  been  directed  to  find  the  engineers’ 
■camp,  they  descried  a log  house  and  drew  up  before  it  to 
enquire  the  way.  Half  the  building  was  store,  and  half  was 
dwelling  house.  At  the  door  of  the  latter  stood  a negress 
with  a bright  turban  on  her  head,  to  whom  Philip  called. 

Can  you  tell  me,  auntie,  how  far  it  is  to  the  town  of 
.Magnolia  ? ” 

‘AVhy,  bress  you  chile,”  laughed  the  woman,  ‘Lyon’s  dere 
now.” 

It  was  true.  This  log  house  was  the  compactly  built  town, 


JEFF  THOMPSON’S  CAMP.  15T 

and  all  creation  was  its  suburbs.  The  engineers’  camp  was 
only  two  or  three  miles  distant. 

“You’s  boun’  to  find  it,”  directed  auntie,  “if  you  don’t 
keah  nuffin  ’boift  de  road,  and  go  fo’  de  sun-down.” 

A brisk  gallop  brought  the  riders  in  sight  of  the  twinkling 
light  of  the  camp,  just  as  the  stars  came  out.  It  lay  in  a 
little  hollow,  where  a small  stream  ran  through  a sparse 
grove  of  young  white  oaks.  A half  dozen  tents  were  pitched 
under  the  trees,  horses  and  oxen  were  corraled  at  a little 
distance,  and  a group  of  men  sat  on  camp  stools  or  lay  on 
blankets  about  a bright  fire.  The  twang  of  a banjo  became 
audible  as  they  drew  nearer,  and  they  saw  a couple  of  negroes, 
from  some  neighboring  plantation,  “ breaking  down  ” a juba 
in  approved  style,  amid  the  “ hi,  hi’s  ” of  the  spectators. 

Mr.  Jeff  Thompson,  for  it  was  the  camp  of  this  redoubt- 
able engineer,  gave  the  travelers  a hearty  welcome,  offered 


STRAIGHT  PROM  THE  SHOULDER. 


them  ground  room  in  his  own  tent,  ordered  supper,  and  set 
out  a small  jug,  a drop  from  which  he  declared  necessary  on 
account  of  the  chill  of  the  evening. 


158 


A PATRIOTIC  ENGINEER. 


I never  saw  an  Eastern  man,”  said  Jeff,  “ who  knew  how 
to  drink  from  a jug  with  one  hand.  It’s  as  easy  as  lying. 
So.”  He  grasped  the  handle  with  the  right  hand,  threw  the 
jug  back  upon  his  arm,  and  applied  his  lips  tg  the  nozzle.  It 
was  an  act  as  graceful  as  it  was  simple.  Besides,”  said  Mr. 
Thompson,  setting  it  down,  ‘‘  it  puts  every  man  on  his  honor 
as  to  quantity.” 

Early  to  turn  in  was  the  rule  of  the  camp,  and  by  nine 
o’clock  everybody  was  under  his  blanket,  except  Jeff  himself, 
who  worked  awhile  at  his  table  over  his  field-book,  and  then 
arose,  stepped  outside  the  tent  door  and  sang,  in  a strong  and 
not  unmelodious  tenor,  the  Star  Spangled  Banner  from  be- 
ginning to  end.  It  proved 
to  be  his  nightly  practice 
to  let  off  the  unexpended 
steam  of  his  conversational 
powers,  in  the  words  of  this 
stirring  song. 

It  was  a long  time  before 
Philip  got  to  sleep.  He 
saw  the  fire  light,  he  saw 
the  clear  stars  through  the 
tree-tops,  he  heard  the  gur- 
gle of  the  stream,  the 
stamp  of  the  horses,  the 
occasional  barking  of  the 
dog  which  followed  the 
cook’s  wagon,  the  hooting 
of  an  owl ; and  when  these 
failed  he  saw  Jeff,  standing 
on  a battlement,  mid  the 
rocket’s  red  glare,  and  heard  him  sing,  “ Oh,  say,  can  you 
see  ? ” It  was  the  first  time  he  had  ever  slept  on  the  ground. 


JEFF  THOMPSON  AS  A NIGHTINGALE. 


CHAPTER  XYIL 


— “ We  have  view’d  it, 


And  measur’d  it  within  all,  by  the  scale : 

The  richest  tract  of  land,  love,  in  the  kingdom ! 
There  will  be  made  seventeen  or  eighteeen  millions. 
Or  more,  as’t  may  be  handled  ! The  Dei 


The  Devil  is  an  Ass, 


OBODY  dressed  more  like  an  engineer  than  Mr.  Henry 


±1  Brierly.  The  completeness  of  his  appointments  was  the 
envy  of  the  corps,  and  the  gay  fellow  himself  was  the  admi- 
ration of  the  camp  servants,  axemen,  teamsters  and  cooks. 

I reckon  you  didn’t  git  them  boots  no  wher’s  this  side  o’ 
Sent  Louis  ? ” queried  the  tall  Missouri  youth  who  acted  as 
commissariy’s  assistant. 

Ho,  Hew  York.” 

Yas,  I’ve  heern  o’  Hew  York,”  continued  the  butternut 
lad,  attentively  studying  each  item  of  Harry’s  dress,  and  en- 
deavoring to  cover  his  design  with  interesting  conversation. 
‘‘  ’H  there’s  Massachusetts.” 

It’s  not  far  off.” 

“I’ve  heern  Massachusetts  was  a -of  a place.  Les’ 

see,  what  state’s  Massachusetts  in  ? ” 

“ Massachusetts,”  kindly  replied  Harry,  “ is  in  the  state  of 
Boston.” 

“ Abolish’n  wan’t  it  ? They  must  a cost  right  smart,”  re- 
ferring to  the  boots. 

Harry  shouldered  his  rod  and  went  to  the  field,  tramped 
over  the  prairie  by  day,  and  figured  up  results  at  night,  with 


159 


160 


BOUND  FOR  STONE’S  LANDING. 


the  utmost  cheerfulness  and  industry,  and  plotted  the  line  on  the 
profile  paper,  without,  however,  the  least  idea  of  engineering 
practical  or  theoretical.  Perhaps  there  was  not  a great  deal 
of  scientific  knowledge  in  the  entire  corps,  nor  was  very  much 
needed.  They  were  making  what  is  called  a preliminary 
survey,  and  the  chief  object  of  a preliminary  survey  was  to 
get  up  an  excitement  about  dhe  road,  to  interest  every  town 
in  that  part  of  the  state  in  it,  under  the  belief  that  the  road 
would  run  through  it,  and  to  get  the  aid  of  every  planter 
upon  the  prospect  that  a station  would  be  on  his  land. 

Mr.  Jeff  Thompson  was  the  most  popular  engineer  who: 
could  be  found  for  this  work.  He  did  not  bother  himself 
much  about  details  or  practicabilities  of  location,  but  ran; 
merrily  along,  sighting  from  the  top  of  one  divide  to  the  top 
of  another,  and  striking  “ plumb  ’’  every  town  site  and  big 
plantation  within  twenty  or  thirty  miles  of  his  route.  In  his 
own  language  he  “ just  went  booming.” 

This  course  gave  Harry  an  opportunity,  as  he  said,  to  learn 
the  practical  details  of  engineering,  and  it  gave  Philip  a chance 
to  see  the  country,  and  to  judge  for  himself  what  prospect  of 
a fortune  it  offered.  Both  he  and  Harry  got  the  “ refusal  ” 
of  more  than  one  plantation  as  they  went  along,  and  wrote 
urgent  letters  to  their  eastern  correspondents,  upon  the 
beauty  of  the  land  and  the  certainty  that  it  would  quadruple 
in  value  as  soon  as  the  road  was  finally  located.  It  seemed 
strange  to  them  that  capitalists  did  not  flock  out  there  and 
secure  this  land. 

They  had  not  been  in  the  field  over  two  weeks  when  Harry 
wrote  to  his  friend  Col.  Sellers  that  he’d  better  be  on  the 
move,  for  the  line  was  certain  to  go  to  Stone’s  Landing.  Any 
one  who  looked  at  the  line  on  the  map,  as  it  was  laid  down 
from  day  to  day,  would  have  been  uncertain  which  way  it 
was  going ; but  Jeft‘  had  declared  that  in  his  judgment  the 
only  practicable  route  from  the  point  they  then  stood  on  was 
to  follow  the  divide  to  Stone’s  Landing,  and  it  was  generally 
understood  that  that  town  would  be  the  next  one  hit. 


AN  INVISIBLE  CITY.  161 

“We’ll  make  it,  boys,”  said  the  chief,  “if  we  have  to  go 
'in  a balloon.” 

And  make  it  they  did  In  less  than  a week,  this  indomit- 
able engineer  had  carried  his  moving  caravan  over  sines  and 


BOUND  FOR  stone’s  LANDING. 


branches,  across  bottoms  and  along  divides,  and  pitched  his 
tents  in  the  very  heart  of  the  city  of  Stone’s  Landing. 

“Well,  I’ll  be  dashed,”  was  heard  the  cheery  voice  of  Mr. 
Thompson,  as  he  stepped  outside  the  tent  door  at  sunrise 
next  morning.  “ If  this  don’t  get  me.  I say,  you,  Grayson, 
get  out  your  sighting  iron  and  see  if  you  can  find  old  Sellers’ 
town.  Blame  me  if  we  wouldn’t  have  run  plumb  by  it  if 
twilight  had  held  on  a little  longer.  Oh ! Sterling,  Brierly,  get 
up  and  see  the  city.  There’s  a steamboat  just  coming  round 
the  bend.”  And  Jeff  roared  with  laughter.  “ The  mayor’ll 
be  round  here  to  breakfast.” 

The  fellows  turned  out  of  the  tents,  rubbing  their  eyes, 
and  stared  about  them.  They  were  camped  on  the  second 
bench  of  the  narrow  bottom  of  a crooked,  sluggish  stream, 
that  was  some  five  rods  wide  in  the  present  good  stage  of 
water.  Before  them  were  a dozen  log  cabins,  with  stick  and 


162 


INCIPIENT  GEEATNESS. 


mud  chimneys,  irregularly  disposed  on  either  side  of  a not 
very  well  defined  road,  which  did  not  seem  to  know  its  own 
mind  exactly,  and,  after  straggling  through  the  towm,  wan- 
dered off  over  the  rolling  prairie  in  an  uncertain  way,  as  if  it 
had  started  for  nowhere  and  was  quite  likely  to  reach  its 
destination.  Just  as  it  left  the  town,  however,  it  was  cheered 
and  assisted  by  a guide-board,  upon  which  was  the  legend 
‘‘10  Mils  to  Hawkey e.’’ 

The  road  had  never  been  made  except  by  the  travel  over 
it,  and  at  this  season — the  rainy  June — it  was  a way  of  ruts 
cut  in  the  black  soil,  and  of  fathomless  mud-holes.  In  the 
principal  street  of  the  city,  it  had  received  more  attention ; 
for  hogs,  great  and  small,  rooted  about  in  it  and  wallowed  in 
it,  turning  the  street  into  a liquid  quagmire  which  could  only 
be  crossed  on  pieces  of  plank  thrown  here  and  there. 

About  the  chief  cabin,  which  was  the  store  and  grocery  of 
this  mart  of  trade,  the  mud  was  more  liquid  than  elsewhere, 
and  the  rude  platform  in  front  of  it  and  the  dry-goods  boxes 
mounted  thereon  were  places  of  refuge  for  all  the  loafers  of 
the  place.  Down  by  the  stream  was  a dilapidated  building 
which  served  for  a hemp  warehouse,  and  a shaky  wharf  ex- 
tended out  from  it  into  the  water.  In  fact  a fiat-boat  was 
there  moored  by  it,  it’s  setting  poles  lying  across  the  gun- 
wales. Above  the  town  the  stream  was  crossed  by  a crazy 
wooden  bridge,  the  supports  of  w^hich  leaned  all  ways  in  the 
soggy  soil ; the  absence  of  a piank  here  and  there  in  the  fioor- 
ing  made  the  crossing  of  the  bridge  faster  than  a walk  an 
offense  not  necessary  to  be  prohibited  by  law. 

“ This,  gentlemen,”  said  Jeff,  “is  Columbus  Eiver,  alias 
Goose  Eun.  If  it  was  widened,  and  deepened,  and  straight- 
ened, and  made  long  enough,  it  would  be  one  of  the  finest 
rivers  in  the  western  country.” 

As  the  sun  rose  and  sent  his  level  beams  along  the  stream, 
the  thin  stratum  of  mist,  or  malaria,  rose  also  and  dispersed, 
but  the  light  was  not  able  to  enliven  the  dull  water  nor  give 
any  hint  of  its  apparently  fathomless  depth.  Yenerable 


STONE’S  LANDING. 


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MORNING  CALLERS. 


163 


mud-turtles  crawled  up  aud  roosted  upon  the  old  logs  in  the 
stream,  their  backs  glistening  in  the  sun,  the  tirst  inhabitants 
of  the  metropolis  to  begin  the  active  business  of  the  day. 

It  was  not  long,  however,  before  smoke  began  to  issue 


WAITING  FOR  A RAILROAD. 


from  the  city  chirnnies ; and  before  the  engineers  had  finish- 
ed their  breakfast  they  were  the  object  of  the  curious  inspec- 
tion of  six  or  eight  boys  and  men,  who  lounged  into  the 
camp  and  gazed  about  them  with  languid  interest,  their  hands 
in  their  pockets  every  one. 

“ Good  morning,  gentlemen,”  called  out  the  chief  engineer, 
from  the  table. 

“ Good  mawning,”  drawled  out  the  spokesman  of  the  party. 

I allow  thish-yers  the  railroad,  I heern  it  was  a-comink” 

‘‘Yes,  this  is  the  railroad,  all  but  the  rails  and  the  iron- 
horse.”  ^ 

“ I reckon  you  kin  git  all  the  rails  you  want  outen  my 
white  oak  timber  over  thar,”  replied  the  first  speaker,  who 
appeared  to  be  a man  of  property  and  willing  to  strike  up  a 
trade. 

“ You’ll  have  to  negotiate  with  the  contractors  about  the 
rails,  sir,”  said  Jeff ; “ here’s  Mr.  Brierly,  I’ve  no  doubt 
would  like  to  buy  your  rails  when  the  time  comes.” 

“ O,”  said  the  man,  “ I thought  maybe  you’d  fetch  the 


AN  OLD  FRIEND  IN  CAMP. 


whole  bilin  along  with  you.  But  if  you  want  rails,  I’ve  got 
em,  haint  I Eph.” 

‘‘  Heaps,”  said  Eph.  without  taking  his  eyes  off  the  group 
at  the  table. 

‘‘  Well,”  said  Mr.  Thompson,  rising  from  his  seat  and  mov- 
ing towards  his  tent,  “ the  railroad  has  come  to  Stone’s  Land- 
ing, sure ; I move  we  take  a drink  on  it  all  round.” 

The  proposal  met  with  universal  favor.  Jeff  gave  pros- 
perity to  Stone’s  Landing  and  navigation  to  Goose  Bun,  and 
the  toast  was  washed  down  with  gusto,  in  the  simple  fluid  of 
corn,  and  with  the  return  compliment  that  a rail  road  was  a 
good  thing,  and  that  Jeff  Thompson  was  no  slouch. 

About  ten  o’clock  a horse  and  wagon  was  descried  making 
a slow  approach  to  the  camp  over  the  prairie.  As  it  drew 
near,  the  wagon  was  seen  to  contain  a portly  gentleman,  who 
hitched  impatiently  forward  on  his  seat,  shook  the  reins  and 
gently  touched  up  his  horse,  in  the  vain  attempt  to  communi- 
cate his  own  energy  to  that  dull  beast,  and  looked  eagerly  at 
the  tents.  When  the  conveyance  at  length  drew  up  to  Mr.. 
Thompson’s  door,  the  gentleman  descended  with  great  delib- 
eration, straightened  himself  up,  rubbed  his  hands,  and  beam- 
ing satisfaction  from  every  part  of  his  radiant  frame,  advanced 
to  the  group  that  was  gathered  to  welcome  him,  and  which 
had  saluted  him  by  name  as  soon  as  he  came  within  hearing. 

“Welcome  to  Napoleon,  gentlemen,  welcome.  I am  proud 
to  see  you  here  Mr.  Thompson.  You  are  looking  well  Mr. 
Sterling.  This  is  the  country,  sir.  Eight  glad  to  see  you 
Mr.  Brierly.  You  got  that  basket  of  champagne?  No? 
Those  blasted  river  thieves  ! J’ll  never  send  anything  more 
by  ’em.  The  best  brand,  Eoederer.  The  last  I had  in  my 
cellar,  from  a lot  sent  me  by  Sir  George  Gore — took  him  out 
on  a buffalo  hunt,  when  he  visited  our  country.  Is  always 
sending  me  some  trifle.  You  haven’t  looked  about  any  yet, 
gentlemen  ? It’s  in  the  rough  yet,  in  the  rough.  Those 
buildings  will  all  have  to  come  down.  That’s  the  place  for 
the  public  square,  Court  House,  hotels,  churches,  jail — all 


NAPOLEON  AS  IT  IS  TO  BE, 


165 


that  sort  of  thing.  About  where  we  stand,  the  deepo.  How 
<does  that  strike  your  engineering  eye,  Mr.  Thompson  ? Down 
yonder  the  business  streets,  running  to  the  wharves.  The 
University  up  there,  on  rising  ground,  sightly  place,  seethe 
river  for  miles.  That’s  Columbus  river,  only  forty-nine  miles 
to  the  Missouri.  You  see  wdiat  it  is,  placid,  steady,  no  cur- 
rent to  interfere  with  navigation,  wants  widening  in  places 
and  dredging,  dredge  out  the  harbor  and  raise  a levee  in  front 
of  the  town  ; made  by  nature  on  purpose  for  a mart.  Look 
at  all  this  country,  not  another  building  within  ten  miles,  no 
other  navigable  stream,  lay  of  the  land  points  right  here ; 
liemp,  tobacco,  corn,  must  come  here.  The  railroad  wdll  do 
it,  Napoleon  won’t  know  itself  in  a year.” 

‘‘  Don’t  now  evidently,”  said  Philip  aside  to  Harry.  “ Have 
you  breakfasted  Colonel  ? ” 

Hastily.  Cup  of  coffee.  Can’t  trust  any  coffee  I don’t  im- 


IT  ain’t  there.” 


'port  myself.  But  I put  up  a basket  of  provisions,  wife  would 
.put  in  a few  delicacies,  women  always  will,  and  a half  dozen 


166 


A CITY  ON  MAPS. 


of  that  Burgundy,  I was  telling  you  of  Mr.  Brierly.  By  the 
way,  you  never  got  to  dine  with  me.”  And  the  Colonel  strode 
away  to  the  wagon  and  looked  under  the  seat  for  the  basket. 

Apparently  it  was  not  there.  For  the  Colonel  raised  up 
the  flap,  looked  in  front  and  behind,  and  then  exclaimed, 

■ Confound  it.  That  comes  of  not  doing  a thing  yourself. 
I trusted  to  the  women  folks  to  set  that  basket  in  the  wagon, 
and  it  ain’t  there.” 

The  camp  cook  speedily  prepared  a savory  breakfast  for 
the  Colonel,  broiled  chicken,  eggs,  corn-bread,  and  coflee,  to 
which  he  did  ample  justice,  and  topped  off  with  a drop  of 
Old  Bourbon,  from  Mr.  Thompson’s  private  store,  a brand 
which  he  said  he  knew  well,  he  should  think  it  came  from  his 
own  side-board. 

While  the  engineer  corps  went  to  the  fleld,  to  run  back  a 
couple  of  miles  and  ascertain,  approximate!}^,  if  a road  could 
ever  get  down  to  the  Landing,  and  to  sight  ahead  across  the 
Bun,  and  see  if  it  could  ever  get  out  again.  Col.  Sellers  and 
Harry  sat  down  and  began  to  roughly  map  out  the  city  of 
Napoleon  on  a large  piece  of  drawing  paper. 

I’ve  got  the  refusal  of  a mile  square  here,”  said  the  Col- 
onel, “ in  our  names,  for  a year,  with  a quarter  interest 
reserved  for  the  four  owners.” 

They  laid  out  the  town  liberally,  not  lacking  room,  leaving 
space  for  the  railroad  to  come  in,  and  for  the  river  as  it  was 
to  be  when  improved. 

The  engineers  reported  that  the  railroad  could  come  in,  by 
taking  a little  sweep  and  crossing  the  stream  on  a high  bridge,, 
but  the  grades  would  be  steep.  Col.  Sellers  said  he  didn’t 
care  so  much  about  the  grades,  if  the  road  could  only  be  made 
to  reach  the  elevators  on  the  river.  The  next  day  Mr.. 
Thompson  made  a hasty  survey  of  the  stream  for  a mile  or 
two,  so  that  the  Colonel  and  Harry  were  enabled  to  show  on 
their  map  how  nobly  that  would  accommodate  the  city.  Jefl^ 
took  a little  writing  from  the  Colonel  and  Harry  for  a pro- 
spective share  but  Philip  declined  to  join  in,  saying  that  he 


NATIVE  EXPECTATIONS.  167 

had  no  money,  and  didn’t  want  to  make  engagements  he 
couldn’t  fulfill. 

The  next  morning  the  camp  moved  on,  followed  till  it  was 
out  of  sight  by  the  listless  eyes  of  the  group  in  front  of  the 
store,  one  of  whom  remarked  that,  he’d  be  doggoned  if  he 
ever  expected  to  see  that  railroad  any  mo’.” 

Harry  went  with  the  Colonel  to  Hawkeye  to  complete 
their  arrangements,  a part  of  which  was  the  preparation  of 
a petition  to  congress  for  the  improvement  of  the  navigation 
of  Columbus  Eiver. 


CHAPTER  XYIIL 


•OI+/II  -loaDxi+ni 

• •:++io:oin-^o: 

Bedda  ag  Iddm. 

— “ Eve  us  lo  convintz  qals  er, 

Que  voill  que  m prendats  a moiler. 

— Qu’en  aissi  I’a  Dieus  establida 

Per  que  not  pot  esser  partida.”  Roman  de  Jaufre. 

Eight  years  have  passed  since  the  death  of  Mr.  Hawkina. 

Eight  years  are  not  many  in  the  life  of  a nation  or  the 
history  of  a state,  but  they  may  be  years  of  destiny  that  shall 
fix  the  current  of  the  century  following.  Such  years  were 
those  that  followed  the  little  scrimmage  on  Lexington  Com- 
mon. Such  years  were  those  that  followed  the  double-shotted 
demand  for  the  surrender  of  Fort  Sumter.  History  is  never 
done  with  inquiring  of  these  years,  and  summoning  wit- 
nesses about  them,  and  trying  to  understand  their  signifi- 
cance. 

The  eight  years  in  America  from  1860  to  1868  uprooted 
institutions  that  were  centuries  old,  changed  the  politics  of  a 
people,  transformed  the  social  life  of  half  the  country,  and 
wrought  so  profoundly  upon  the  entire  national  character 
that  the  influence  cannot  be  measured  short  of  two  or  three 
generations. 

As  we  are  accustomed  to  interpret  the  economy  of  provi- 
dence, the  life  of  the  individual  is  as  nothing  to  that  of  the 
nation  or  the  race  ; but  who  can  say,  in  the  broader  view  and 
the  more  intelligent  weight  of  values,  that  the  life  of  one 

168 


THE  GIFT  OF  BEAUTY. 


169 


man  is  not  more  than  tliat  of  a nationality,  and  that  there  is 
not  a tribunal  where  the  tragedy  of  one  human  soul  shall  not 
seem  more  significant  than  the  overturning  of  any  human 
institution  whatever  ? 

When  one  thinks  of  the  tremendous  forces  of  the  upper 
and  the  nether  world  which  play  for  the  mastery  of  the  soul 
of  a woman  during  the  few  years  in  which  she  passes  from 
plastic  girlhood  to  the  ripe  maturity  of  womanhood,  he  may 
well  stand  in  awe  before  the  momentous  drama. 

What  capacities  she  has  of  purity,  tenderness,  goodness ; 
what  capacities  of  vileness,  bitterness  and  evil.  Nature  must 
needs  be  lavish  with  the  mother  and  creator  of  men,  and 
centre  in  her  all  the  possibilities  of  life.  And  a few  critical 
years  can  decide  whether  her  life  is  to  he  full  of  sweetness 
and  light,  whether  she  is  to  he  the  vestal  of  a holy  temple, 
■or  whether  she'  will  he  the  fallen  priestess  of  a desecrated 
shrine.  There  are  women,  it  is  true,  who  seem  to  he  capable 
neither  of  rising  much  nor  of  falling  much,  and  whom  a 
conventional  life  saves  from  any  special  development  of 
character. 

But  Laura  was  not  one  of  them.  She  had  the  fatal  gift  of 
beauty,  and  that  more  fatal  gift  .which  does  not  always  ac- 
company mere  beauty,  the  power  of  fascination,  a power  that 
may,  indeed,  exist  without  beauty.  She  had  will,  and  pride 
and  courage  and  ambition,  and  she  was  left  to  be  very  much 
her  own  guide  at  the  age  Avhen  romance  comes  to  the  aid  of 
passion,  and  when  the  awakening  powers  of  her  vigorous 
mind  had  little  object  on  which  to  discipline  themselves. 

The  tremendous  conflict  that  was  fought  in  this  girl’s  soul 
none  of  those  about  her  knew,  and  very  few  knew  that  her 
life  had  in  it  anything  unusual  or  romantic  or  strange. 

Those  were  troublous  days  in  Hawkey e as  well  as  in  most 
other  Missouri  towns,  days  of  confusion,  when  between 
Unionist  and  Confederate  occupations,  sudden  maraudings 
and  bush-whackings  and  raids,  individuals  escaped  observa- 
tion or  comment  in  actions  that  would  have  filled  the  town 
with  scandal  in  quiet  times.  ^ 

Fortunately  we  only  need  to  deal  with  Laura’s  life  at  this 


170  WASHINGTON  AS  AN  INVENTOR  AND  SOLDIER. 


period  liistoricallj,  and  look  back  upon  such  portions  of  it  as 
will  serve  to  reveal  the  woman  as  she  was  at  the  tune  of  the 
arrival  of  Mr.  Harry  Brierly  in  Hawkeye. 

The  Hawkins  family  were  settled  there,  and  had  a hard 
enough  struggle  with  poverty  and  the  necessity  of  keeping 
up  appearances  in  accord  with  their  own  family  pride  and  the 
large  expectations  they  secretly  cherished  of  a fortune  ‘in  the 
Knobs  of  East  Tennessee.  How  pinched  they  were  perhaps 
no  one  knew  but  Clay,  to  whom  they  looked  for  almost  their 
whole  support.  Washington  had  been  in  Hawkeye  off  and 
on,  attracted  away  occasionally  by  some  tremendous  specula- 
tion, from  which  he  invariably  returned  to  Gen.  Boswell’s 
office  as  poor  as  he  went.  He  was  the  inventor  of  no  one 
knew  how  many  useless  contrivances,  which  were  not  worth 
patenting,  and  his  years  had  been  passed  in  dreaming  and 
planning  to  no  purpose ; until  he  was  now  a man  of  about 
thirty,  without  a profession  or  a permanent  occupation,  a tall, 
brown-haired,  dreamy  person  of  the  best  intentions  and  the 
frailest  resolution.  Probably  however  the  eight  years  had 
been  happier  to  him  than  to  any  others  in  his  circle,  for  the 
time  had  been  mostly  spent  in  a blissful  dream  of  the  coming 
of  enormous  wealth. 

He  went  out  with  a company  from  Hawkeye  to  the  war, 
and  was  not  wanting  in  courage,  but  he  would  have  been  a 
better  soldier  if  he  had  been  less  engaged  in  contrivances  for 
circumventing  the  enemy  by  strategy  unknown  to  the  booksw 

It  happened  to  him  to  be  captured  in  one  of  his  self- 
appointed  expeditions,  but  the  federal  colonel  released  him, 
after  a short  examination,  satisfied  that  he  could  most  injure 
the  confederate  forces  opposed  to  the  Unionists  by  returning 
him  to  his  regiment. 

Col.  Sellers  was  of  course  a prominent  man  during  the 
war.  He  was  captain  of  the  home  guards  in  Hawkeye,  and 
he  never  left  home  except  upon  one  occasion,  when  on  the 
strength  of  a rumor,  he  executed  a fiank  movement  and  forti- 
fied Stone’s  Landing,  a place  which  no  one  unacquainted  with 
the  country  would  be  likely  to  find. 

“ Gad,”  said  the  Colonel  afterwards,  ‘‘  the  Landing  is  the 


COL.  SELLEliS  AS  A SOLDIER. 


171- 


key  to  upper  Missouri,  and  it  is  the  only  place  the  eiiemj 
never  captured.  If  other  places  had  been  defended  as  well  as 
that  was,  the  result  would  have  been  different,  sir.” 

The  Colonel  had  his  own  theories  about  war  as  he  had  in. 


CAPTURE  OP  WASHINGTON. 


other  things.  If  everybody  had  stayed  at  home  as  he  did,  he- 
said,  the  South  never  would  have  been  conquered.  For  what 
would  there  have  been  to  conquer  ? Mr.  Jeff  Davis  was  con- 
stantly writing  him  to  take  command  of  a corps  in  the  confed- 
erate army,  but  Col.  Sellers  said,  no,  his  dut}^  was  at  home.. 
And  he  was  by  no  means  idle.  He  was  the  inventor  of  the 
famous  air  torpedo,  which  came  very  near  destroying  the- 
Union  armies  in  Missouri,  and  the  city  of  St.  Louis  itself. 

His  plan  was  to  fill  a torpedo  with  Greek  fire  and  poisonous- 
and  deadly  missiles,  attach  it  to  a balloon,  and  then  let  it  sail 
away  over  the  hostile  camp  and  explode  at  the  right  moment, 
when  the  time-fuse  burned  out.  He  intended  to  use  this 
invention  in  the  capture  of  St.  Louis,  exploding  his  tor- 
pedoes over  the  city,  and  raining  destruction  upon  it  until 
the  army  of  occupation  would  gladly  capitulate.  He  was  un- 
able to  procure  the  Greek  fire,  but  he  constructed  a vicious 
torpedo  which  would  have  answered  the  purpose,  but  the  first 


172 


LAURA’S  LIFE  AT  HAWKEYE. 


'One  premntiirelj  exploded  in  liis  wood-house,  blowing  it  clean 
away,  and  setting  lire  to  his  house.  The  neighbors  helped 
liim  put  out  the  conflagration,  but  they  discouraged  any 
more  experiments  of  that  sort. 

The  patriotic  old  gentleman,  however,  planted  so  much 
powder  and  so  many  explosive  contrivances  in  the  roads  lead- 
ing into  Hawkeye,  and  then  forgot  the  exact  spots  of  danger, 
that  people  were  afraid  to  travel  the  highways,  and  used  to 
'Come  to  town  across  the  fields.  The  Colonel’s  motto  was. 

Millions  for  defence  but  not  one  cent  for  tribute.” 

When  Laura  came  to  Hawkeye  she  might  have  forgotten 
the  annoyances  of  the  gossips  of  Murpheysburg  and  have  out- 
lived the  bitterness  that  was  growing  in  her  heart,  if  she  had 
been  thrown  less  upon  herself,  or  if  the  surroundings  of  her 
life  had  been  more  congenial  and  helpful.  But  she  had  little 
society,  loss  and  less  as  she  grew  older  that  was  congenial  to 
her,  and  her  mind  preyed  upon  itself,  and  the  mystery  of  her 
birth  at  once  chagrined  her  and  raised  in  her  the  most  extrav- 
agant expectations. 

She  was  proud  and  she  felt  the  sting  of  poverty.  She 
could  not  but  be  conscious  of  her  beauty  also,  and  she  was 
vain  of  tliat,  and  came  to  take  a sort  of  delight  in  the  exercise 
of  her  fascinations  upon  the  rather  loutish  young  men  who 
came  in  her  way  and  whom  she  despised. 

There  was  another  world  opened  to  her — a world  of  books. 
But  it  was  not  the  best  world  of  that  sort,  for  the  small 
libraries  she  had  access  to  in  Hawkeye  were  decidedly  miscel- 
laneous, and  lai-gely  made  up  of  romances  and  Actions  which 
fed  lier  imagination  with  the  most  exaggerated  notions  of  life, 
and  showed  her  men  and  women  in  a very  false  sort  of 
heroism.  * From  these  stories  she  learned  what  a woman  of 
keen  intellect  and  some  culture  joined  to  beauty  and  fascina- 
tion of  manner,  migh!:  expect  to  accomplish  in  society  as  she 
read  of  it ; and  along  with  these  ideas  she  imbibed  other  very 
<©rude  ones  in  regard  to  the  emancipation  of  woman. 

There  were  also  other  books — histories,  biographies  of 


COL.  SELBY  AND  LOVE. 


17a' 


distinguished  people,  travels  in  far  lands,  poems,  especially 
those  of  Byron,  Scott  and  Shelley  and  Moore,  which  she  eagerly 
absorbed,  and  appropriated  therefrom  what  was  to  her  liking. 
Nobody  in  Hawkey e had  read  so  much  or,  after  a fashion, 
studied  so  diligently  as  Laura.  She  passed  for  an  accom- 
plished girl,  and  no  doubt  thought  herself  one,  as  she  was, 
judged  by  any  standard  near  her. 

During  the  war  there  came  to  Hawkey e a confederate 
officer.  Col.  S'elby,  who  was  stationed  there  for  a time,  in 
command  of  that  district.  He  was  a handsome,  soldierly 
man  of  thirty  years,  a graduate  of  the  University  of  Virginia, 
and  of  distinguished  family,  if  his  story  might  be  believed,, 
and,  it  was  evident,  a man  of  the  world  and  of  extensive 
travel  and  adventure. 

To  find  in  such  an  out  of  the  way  country  place  a woman 
like  Laura  was  a piece  of  good  luck  upon  which  Col.  Selby 
congratulated  himself.  He  was  studiously  polite  to  her  and 
treated  her  with  a consideration  to  which  she  was  unaccus- 
tomed. She  had  read  of  such  men,  but  she  had  never  seen 
one  before,  one  so  high-bred,  so  noble  in  sentiment,  so  enter- 
taining in  conversation,  so  engaging  in  manner. 

It  is  a long  story ; unfortunately  it  is  an  old  story,  and  it 
need  not  be  dwelt  on.  Laura  loved  him,  and  believed  that 
his  love  for  her  was  as  pure  and  deep  as  her  own.  She  wor- 
shipped him  and  would  have  counted  her  life  a little  thing  to 
give  him,  if  he  would  only  love  her  and  let  her  feed  the  hun- 
ger of  her  heart  upon  him. 

The  passion  possessed  her  whole  being,  and  lifted  her  up, 
till  she  seemed  to  walk  on  air.  It  was  all  true,  then,  the 
romances  she  had  read,  the  bliss  of  love  she  had  dreamed  of. 
Why  had  she  never  noticed  before  how  blithesome  the  world 
was,  how  jocund  with  love  ; the  birds  sang  it,  the  trees  whis- 
pered it  to  her  as  she  passed,  the  very  flowers  beneath  her 
feet  strewed  the  way  as  for  a bridal  march. 

When  the  Colonel  went  away  they  were  engaged  to  be 
married,  as  soon  as  he  could  make  certain  arrangements 


1U 


LAURA  MARRIED. 


"wliich  he  represented  to  be  necessary,  and  quit  the  army. 

He  wrote  to  her  from  Harding,  a small  town  in  the  south- 
west corner  of  the  state,  saying  that  he  should  be  held  in  the 
.service  longer  than  he  had  expected,  but  that  it  would  not  be 
more  than  a few  months,  then  he  should  be  at  liberty  to  take  her 
to  Chicago  where  he  had  property,  and  should  have  business, 
either  now  or  as  soon  as  the  war  was  over,  which  he  thought 
could  not  last  long.  Meantime  why  should  they  be  separat- 
ed ? He  was  established  in  comfortable  quarters,  and  if  she 
could  find  company  and  join  him,  they  would  be  married, 
and  gain  so  many  more  months  of  happiness. 

Was  woman  ever  prudent  when  she  loved?  Laura  went 
to  Harding,  the  neighbors  supposed  to  nurse  Washington 
who  had  fallen  ill  there. 

Her  engagement  was,  of  course,  known  in  Hawkeye,  and 
was  indeed  a matter  of  pride  to  her  family.  Mrs.  Hawkins 
would  have  told  the  first  inquirer  that  Laura  had  gone  to  be 
married  ; but  Laura  had  cautioned  her ; she  did  not  want  to 
be  thought  of,  she  said,  as  going  in  search  of  a husband ; let 
the  news  come  back  after  she  was  married. 

So  she  traveled  to  Harding  on  the  pretence  we  have  men- 
tioned, and  was  married.  She  was  married,  but  somethin.^ 
must  have  happened  on  that  very  day  or  the  next  that 
alarmed  her.  W ashington  did  not  know  then  or  after  what 
it  was,  but  Laura  bound  him  not  to  send  news  of  her  mar- 
riage to  Hawkeye  yet,  and  to  enjoin  her  mother  not  to  speak 
of  it.  Whatever  cruel  suspicion  or  nameless  dread  this  was, 
Laura  tried  bravely  to  put  it  away,  and  not  let  it  cloud  her  » 
happiness. 

Communication  that  summer,  as  may  be  imagined,  was 
neither  regular  nor  frequent  between  the  remote  confederate 
camp  at  Harding  and  Hawkeye,  and  Laura  was  in  a measure 
lost  sight  of — indeed,  eveiyone  had  troubles  enough  of  his 
own  without  borrowing  from  his  neighbors. 

Laura  had  given  herself  utterly  to  her  husband,  and  if  he 
had  faults,  if  he  was  selfish,  if  he  was  sometimes  coarse,  if 


I 


ri 

■«. 

.c 

'1 


' • UBRARY  ;■ 

OF  THE  . 

»■'  ••'■  ’ 'j:^!VERSiTV  OF  ILUSOr  ' 
■ ' 

’ ^ m ' ■•"'Mi 


LAURA  SWOONS  AT  COL.  SELUl'S  WORDS. 


PERFIDY  AND  DESERTION. 


175 


he  was  dissipated,  she  did  not  or  would  not  see  it.  It  was 
the  passion  of  her  life,  the  time  when  her  whole  nature 
went  to  flood  tide  and  swept  away  all  barriers.  Was  her 
husband  ever  cold  or  indifferent?  She  shut  her  eyes  to 
everything  but  her  sense  of  possession  of  her  idol. 

Three  months  passed.  One  morning  her  husband  informed 
her  that  he  had  been  ordered  South,  and  must  go  within  two 
hours. 

“ I can  be  ready,”  said  Laura,  cheerfully. 

“ But  I can’t  take  you.  You  must  go  back  to  Hawkeye.” 

“ Can’t — take — me  ? ” Laura  asked,  with  wonder  in  her 
eyes.  “I  can’t  live  without  you.  You  said  ” — 

“ 0 bother  what  I said  ” — and  the  Colonel  took  up  his 
sword  to  buckle  it  on,  and  then  continued  coolly,  ‘‘  the  fact  is 
Laura,  our  romance  is  played  out.” 

Laura  heard,  but  she  did  not  comprehend.  She  caught  his 
arm  and  cried,  “ George,  how  ca,n  you  joke  so  cruelly  ? I 
will  go  any  where  with  you.  I will  wait  any  where.  I can’t 
go  back  to  Hawkeye.” 

‘‘ Well,  go  where  you  like.  Perhaps,”  continued  he  with 
a sneer,  “ you  would  do  as  well  to  wait  here,  for  another 
colonel.” 

Laura’s  brain  whirled.  She  did  not  yet  comprehend. 
‘‘What  does  this  mean  ? Where  are  you  going?  ” 

“ It  means,”  said  the  officer,  in  measured  words,  “ that  yon 
haven’t  anything  to  show  for  a legal  marriage,  and  that  I am 
going  to  New  Orleans.” 

“ It’s  a lie,  George,  it’s  a lie.  I am  your  wife.  I shall  go. 
I shall  follow  you  to  New  Orleans.” 

“ Perhaps  my  wife  might  not  like  it ! ” 

Laura  raised  her  head,  her  eyes  flamed  with  Are,  she  tried 
to  utter  a cry,  and  fell  senseless  on  the  floor. 

When  she  came  to  herself  the  Colonel  was  gone.  Wash- 
ington Hawkins  stood  at  her  bedside.  Did  she  come  to  h^r- 
.self  Was  there  anything  left  in  her  heart  but  hate  and 
bitterness,  a sense  of  an  infamous  wrong  at  the  hands  of  the 
only  man  she  had  ever  loved  ? 


176 


WHEREIN  LAURA  WAS  CHANGED. 


She  returned  to  Hawke je.  With  the  exception  of  Wash- 
ington and  his  mother,  no  one  knew  what  had  happened. 
The  neighbors  supposed  that  the  engagement  with  Col.  Selby 
had  fallen  through.  Laura  was  ill  for  a long  time,  but  she 
recovered  ; she  had  that  resolution  in  her  that  could  conquer 
death  almost.  And  with  her  health  came  back  her  beauty, 
and  an  added  fascination,  a something  that  might  be  mistaken 
for  sadness.  Is  there  a beauty  in  the  knowledge  of  evil,  a 
beauty  that  shines  out  in  the  face  of  a person  whose  inward 
life  is  transformed  by  some  terrible  experience  ? Is  the  pathos 
in  the  eyes  of  the  Beatrice  Cenci  from  her  guilt  or  her 
innocence  ? 

Laura  was  not  much  changed.  The  lovely  woman  had  a 
devil  in  her  heart.  That  was  all. 


I 


CHAPTER  XIX. 


2Bie  enttDtiefit  fid)  boc^  fi^nede 
Slu«  ber  fliic^tigften  (Smpfinbuitg 
Sefbenfc^aften  o^ne  ©renjett 
Unb  bie  idrtUd)fte  SScrbinbung? 

SEdglic^  wdd)ft  ju  biefer  2)amc 
SUleined  Jperjen^  tieffte  9lcigung, 
llnb  babg  id)  in  fie  oeVIiebt  fct, 

SSJirb  mir  faft  jur  Uebcrjeugung,  Heine. 

Mr.  Harry  Brierly  drew  his  pay  as  an  engineer  while  he 
was  living  at  the  City  Hotel  in  Hawkeye.  Mr.  Thomp- 
son had  been  kind  enough  to  say  that  it  didn’t  make  any 
difference  whether  he  was  with  the  corps  or  not ; and  although 
Harry  protested  to  the  Colonel  daily  and  to  Washington 
Hawkins  that  he  must  go  back  at  once  to  the  line  and  superin- 
tend the  lay-out  with  reference  to  his  contract,  yet  he  did  not 
go,  but  wrote'  instead  long  letters  to  Philip,  instructing  him 
to  keep  his  eye  out,  and  to  let  him  know  when  any  difficulty 
occurred  that  required  his  presence. 

Meantime  Harry  blossomed  out  in  the  society  of  Hawk- 
eye,  as  he  did  in  any  society  where  fortune  cast  him  and  he 
had  the  slightest  opportunity  to  expand.  Indeed  the  talents 
of  a rich  and  accomplished  young  fellow  like  Harry  were 
not  likely  to  go  unappreciated  in  such  a place.  A land  opera- 
tor, engaged  in  vast  speculations,  a favorite  in  the  select  cir- 
cles of  Xew  York,  in  correspondence  with  brokers  and  bank- 
ers, intimate  with  public  men  at  Washington,  one  who  could 
12^  . 177 


178  HARRY  PROPOSES  TO  APPROPRIATE  LAURA. 


play  the  guitar  and  touch  the  banjo  lightly,  and  who  had  an 
eye  for  a pretty  girl,  and  knew  the  language  of  flattery,  was 
welcome  everywhere  in  Hawkeye.  Even  Miss  Laura  Hawk- 
ins thought  it  worth  while  to  use  her  fascinations  upon  him, 
and  to  endeavor  to  entangle  the  volatile  fellow  in  the  meshes 
of  her  attractions. 

‘‘  Gad,”  says  Harry  to  the  Colonel,  “ she’s  a superb  creature*, 
she’d  make  a stir  in  Hew  York,  money  or  no  money.  There 
are  men  I know  would  give  her  a railroad  or  an  opera  house, 
or  whatever  she  wanted — at  least  they’d  promise.” 

Harry  had  a way  of  looking  at  women  as  he  looked  at  any- 
thing else  in  the  world  he  wanted,  and  he  half  resolved  to 
appropriate  Miss  Laura,  during  his  stay  in  Hawkeye.  Per- 
haps the  Colonel  divined  his  thoughts,  or  was  offended  at 
Harry’s  talk,  for  he  replied, 

‘‘Ho  nonsense,  Mr.  Brierly.  Honsense  won’t  do  in 
Hawkeye,  not  with  my  friends.  The  Hawkins’  blood  is 
good  blood,  all  the  way  from  Tennessee.  The  Hawkinses 
are  under  the  weather  now,  but  their  Tennessee  property  is 
millions  when  it  comes  into  market.” 

“Of  course.  Colonel.  Hot  the  least  offense  intended. 
Put  you  can  see  she  is  a fascinating  wmman.  I was  only 
thinking,  as  to  this  appropriation,  now,  what  such  a woman 
could  do  in  Washington.  All  correct,  too,  all  correct.  Com- 
mon thing,  I assure  you  in  Washington  ; the  wives  of  senators, 
representatives,  cabinet  officers,  all  sorts  of  wives,  and  some 
who  are  not  wives,  use  their  influence.  You  want  an  appoint- 
ment? Do  you  go  to  Senator  X?  Hot  much.  You  get  on 
the  right  side  of  his  wife.  Is  it  an  appropriation  ? You’d 
go  straight  to  the  Committee,  or  to  the  Interior  office,  I sup- 
pose? You’d  learn  better  than  that.  It  takes  a woman  to 
get  any  thing  through  the  I«and  Office.  I tell  you,  Miss 
Laura  would  fascinate  an  appropriation  right  through  the 
Senate  and  the  House  of  Pepresentatives  in  one  session,  if  she 
was  in  Washington,  as  your  friend,  Colpufel,  of 
friend.” 


USES  OF  WOMEN  IN  WASHINGTON.  179 

Would  you  have  her  sign  our  petition?”  asked  the 
CJolonel,  innocently. 

Harry  laughed.  “Women  don’t  get  anything  by  petition- 


NOT  EASILY  REFERRED. 


ing  Congress ; nobody  does,  that’s  for  form.  Petitions  are 
referred  somewhere,  and  that’s  the  last  of  them ; you  can’t 
refer  a handsome  woman  so  easily,  when  she  is  present. 
They  prefer  ’em  mostly.” 

The  petition  however  was  elaborately  drawn  up,  with  a 
glowing  description  of  Napoleon  and  the  adjacent  country, 
and  a statement  of  the  absolute  necessity  to  the  prosperity  of 
that  region  and  of  one  of  the  stations  on  the  great  through 
route  to  the  Pacific,  of  the  immediate  improvement  of 


180 


THE  PETITION  WITH  MAPS. 


Columbus  Kiver ; to  this  was  appended  a map  of  the  city 
and  a survey  of  the  river.  It  was  signed  by  all  the  people 
at  Stone’s  Landing  who  could  write  their  names,  by  CoL 
Beriah  Sellers,  and  the  Colonel  agreed  to  have  the  names 
headed  by  all  the  senators  and  representatives  from  the  state 
and  by  a sprinkling  of  ex-governors  and  ex-members  of  con- 
gress. When  completed  it  was  a formidable  document.  Its 
preparation  and  that  of  more  minute  plots  of  the  new  city 
consumed  the  valuable  time  of  Sellers  and  Harry  for  many 
weeks,  and  served  to  keep  them  both  in  the  highest  spirits. 

In  the  eyes  of  W ashington  Hawkins,  Harry  was  a superior 
being,  a man  who  was  able  to  bring  things  to  pass  in  a way 
that  excited  his  enthusiasm.  He  never  tired  of  listening  to 
his  stories  of  what  he  had  done  and  of  what  he  was  going  to 
do.  As  for  Washington,  Harry  thought  he  was  a man  of 
ability  and  comprehension,  but  ‘‘  too  visionary,”  he  told  the 
Colonel.  The  Colonel  said  he  might  be  right,  but  he  had 
never  noticed  anything  visionary  about  him. 

“ He’s  got  his  plans,  sir.  God  bless  my  soul,  at  his  age,  I 
was  full  of  plans.  But  experience  sobers  a man,  I never 
touch  any  thing  now  that  hasn’t  been  weighed  in  my  judg- 
ment ; and  when  Beriah  Sellers  puts  his  judgment  on  a thing, 
there  it  is.” 

Whatever  might  have  been  Harry’s  intentions  with  regard 
to  Laura,  he  saw  more  and  more  of  her  every  day,  until  he 
got  to  be  restless  and  nervous  when  he  was  not  with  hen 
That  consummate  artist  in  passion  allowed  him  to  believe 
that  the  fascination  was  mainly  on  his  side,  and  so  .worked 
upon  his  vanity,  while  inflaming  his  ardor,  that  he  scarcely 
knew  what  he  was  about.  Her  coolness  and  coyness  were 
even  made  to  appear  the  simple  precautions  of  a modest  ti- 
midity, and  attracted  him  even  more  than  the  little  tenderness 
es  into  which  she  was  occasionally  surprised.  He  could  never 
be  away  from  her  long,  day  or  evening ; and  in  a short  time 
their  intimacy  was  the  town  talk.  She  played  with  him  so 
adroitly  that  Harry  thought  she  was  absorbed  in  love  for 


HARRY  AND  LAURA.  181 

him,  and  yet  he  was  amazed  that  he  did  not  get  on  faster  in 
his  conquest. 

And  when  he  thought  of  it,  he  was  piqued  as  well.  A 
<;ountry  girl,  poor  enough,  that  was  evident ; living  with  her 
family  in  a cheap  and  most  unattractive  frame  house,  such  as 
•carpenters  build  in  America,  scantily  furnished  and  una- 
dorned ; without  the  adventitious  aids  of  dress  or  jewels  or 
the  line  manners  of  society — Harry  couldn’t  understand  it. 
Hut  she  fascinated  him,  and  held  him  just  beyond  the  line  of 
.absolute  familiarity  at  the  same  time.  While  he  was  with  her 
she  made  him  forget  that  the  Hawkins’  house  was  nothing  but 
a wooden  tenement,  with  four  small  square  rooms  on  the 
ground  floor  and  a half  story  ; it  might  have  been  a palace 
for  aught  he  knew. 

Perhaps  Laura  was  older  than  Harry.  She  was,  at  any 
Tate,  at  that  ripe  age  when  beauty  in  woman  seems  more 
:solid  than  in  the  budding  period  of  girlhood,  and  she  had 
'Come  to  understand  her  powers  perfectly,  and  to  know  exactly 
how  much  of  the  susceptibility  and  archness  of  the  girl  it 
was  profitable  to  retain.  She  saw  that  many  women,  with 
the  best  intentions,  make  a mistake  of  carrying  too  much  girl- 
ishness into  womanhood.  Such  a woman  would  have  attracted 
Harry  at  any  time,  but  only  a woman  with  a cool  brain  and 
exquisite  art  could  have  made  him  lose  his  head  in  this  way ; 
for  'Harry  thought  himself  a man  of  the  world.  The  young 
fellow  never  dreamed  that  he  was  merely  being  experimented 
on ; he  was  to  her  a man  of  another  society  and  another  cul- 
ture, different  from  that  she  had  any  knowledge  of  except  in 
books,  and  she  was  not  unwilling  to  try  on  him  the  fascina- 
tions of  her  mind  and  person. 

For  Laura  had  her  dreams.  She  detested  the  narrow  lim- 
its in  which  her  lot  was  cast,  she  hated  poverty.  Much  of 
her  reading  had  been  of  modern  works  of  fiction,  wwitten  by 
her  own  sex,  which  had  revealed  to  her  something  of  her  own 
powers  and  given  her  indeed,  an  exaggerated  notion  of  the 
influence,  the  wealth,  the  position  a woman  may  attain  who 
has  beauty  and  talent  and  ambition  and  a little  culture,  and 
is  not  too  scrupulous  in  the  the  use  of  them.  She  wanted  to 


182 


WHAT  KEPT  HARRY  IN  HAWKEYE. 


be  rich,  she  wanted  luxury,  she  wanted  men  at  her  feet,  her 
slaves,  and  she  had  not — thanks  to  some  of  the  novels  she 
had  read — the  nicest  discrimination  between  notoriety  and 
reputation ; perhaps  she  did  not  know  how  fatal  notoriety 
usually  is  to  the  bloom  of  womanhood. 

With  the  other  Hawkins  children  Laura  had  been  brought 
up  in  the  belief  that  they  had  inherited  a fortune  in  the  Tenn- 
essee Lands.  She  did  not  by  any  means  share  all  the  delusion 
of  the  family;  but  her  brain  was  not  seldom  busy  with 
schemes  about  it.  Washington  seemed  to  her  only  to  dream 
of  it  and  to  be  willing  to  wait  for  its  riches  to  fall  upon  him 
in  a golden  shower ; but  she  was  impatient,  and  wished  she 
were  a man  to  take  hold  of  the  business. 

“ You  men  must  enjoy  your  schemes  and  your  activity  and. 
liberty  to  go  about  the  world,”  she  said  to  Harry  one  day, 
when  he  had  been  talking  of  Hew  York  and  Washington  and. 
his  incessant  engagements. 

“ Oh,  yes,”  replied  that  martyr  to  business,  “ it’s  all  well 
enough,  if  you  don’t  have  too  much  of  it,  but  it  only  has  one 
object.” 

“ What  is  that  ? ” 

If  a w^oman  doesn’t  know,  it’s  useless  to  tell  her.  What 
do  you  suppose  I am  staying  in  Hawkeye  for,  week  aft(ir 
week,  when  I ought  to  be  with  my  corps  ? ” 

“ I suppose  it’s  your  business  with  Col.  Sellers  about  Hapo- 
leon,  you’ve  always  told  me  so,”  answered  Laura,  with  a look, 
intended  to  contradict  her  words. 

“ And  now  I tell  you  that  is  all  arranged,  I suppose  you’ll 
tell  me  I ought  to  go  ? ” 

“ Harry  ! ” exclaimed  Laura,  touching  his  arm  and  letting 
her  pretty  hand  rest  there  a moment.  Why  should  I want 
you  to  go  away  ? The  only  person  in  Haw^keye  who  under- 
stands me.” 

‘‘  But  you  refuse  to  understand  7/^^,”  replied  Harry,  flattered 
but  still  petulent.  You  are  like  an  iceberg,  when  w^e  are. 
alone.” 

Laura  looked  up  with  wonder  in  her  great  eyes,  and  some- 
thing like  a blush  sufi’using  her  face,  followed  by  a look  of 


A WINTER  IN  WASHINGTON  PROPOSED.  183 

langour  that  penetrated  Harry’s  heart  as  if  it  had  been  longing. 

Did  I ever  show  any  want  of  confidence  in  you,  Harry  ? ” 
And  s-he  gave  him  her  hand,  which  Harry  pressed  with 
effusion — something  in  her  manner  told  him  that  he  must  be 
content  with  that  favor. 

It  was  always  so.  She  excited  his  hopes  and  denied  him, 
infiamed  his  passion  and  restrained  it,  and  wound  him  in 
her  toils  day  by  day.  To  what  purpose  ? It  was  keen  delight 
to  Laura  to  prove  that  she  had  power  over  men. 

Laura  liked  to  hear  about  life  at  the  east,  and  especially 
about  the  luxurious  society  in  which  Mr.  Brierly  moved  when 
he  was  at  home.  It  pleased  her  imagination  to  fancy  herself 
a queen  in  it. 

You  should  be  a winter  in  Washington,”  Harry  said. 

But  I have  no  acquaintances  there.” 

‘‘Don’t  know  any  of  the  families  of  the  congressmen! 
They  like  to  have  a pretty  woman  staying  with  them.” 

“Hot  one.” 

“Suppose  Col.  Sellers  should  have  business  there;  say, 
about  this  Columbus  Biver  appropriation  ? ” 

“ Sellers ! ” and  Laura  laughed. 

“You  needn’t  laugh.  Queerer  things  have  happened. 
Sellers  knows  everybody  from  Missouri,  and  from  the 
West,  too,  for  that  matter.  He’d  introduce  you  to  Wash- 
ington life  quick  enough.  It  doesn’t  need  a crowbar  to  break 
your  way  into  society  there  as  it  does  in  Philadelphia.  It’s 
democratic,  Washington  is.  Money  or  beauty  will  open  any 
door.  If  I were  a handsome  woman,  I shouldn’t  want  any 
better  place  than  the  capital  to  pick  up  a prince  or  a fortune.” 

“ Thank  you,”  replied  Laura.  “ But  I prefer  the  quiet  of 
home,  and  the  love  of  those  I know  ; ” and  her  face  wore  a 
look  of  sweet  contentment  and  unworldliness  that  finished 
Mr.  Harry  Brierly  for  the  day. 

Nevertheless,  the  hint  that  Harry  had  dropped  fell  upon 
good  ground,  and  bore  fruit  an  hundred  fold ; it  worked  in 
her  mind  until  she  had  built  up  a plan  on  it,  and  almost  a 
career  for  herself.  Why  not,  slie  said,  why  shouldn’t  I do 


184  COL.  SELLERS  INTERVIEWED. 

as^other  women  have  done  ? She  took  the  first  opportunity 
to  see  Col.  Sellers,  and  to  sound  him  about  the  Washington 
visit.  How  was  he  getting  on  with  his  navigation  scheme , 
would  it  be  likely  to  take  him  from  home  to  Jefferson  City; 
or  to  Washington,  perhaps? 

“Well,  maybe.  If  the  people  of  Hapoleon  want  me  to  go 
to  Washington,  and  look  after  that  matter,  I might  tear 
myself  from  my  home.  It’s  been  suggested  to  me,  but — not  a 
word  of  it  to  Mrs.  Sellers  and  the  children.  Maybe  they 
wouldn’t  like  to  think  of  their  father  in  Washington.  But 
Dilworthy,  Senator  Dilworthy,  says  to  me,  ‘Colonel,  you 
are  the  man,  you  could  influence  more  votes  than  any  one 
else  on  such  a measure,  an  old  settler,  a man  of  the  people, 
you  know  the  wants  of  Missouri ; you’ve  a respect  for  relig- 
ion too,  says  he,  and  know  how  the  cause  of  the  gospel  goes 
with  improvements.’  Which  is  true  enough.  Miss  Laura, 
and  hasn’t  been  enough  thought  of  in  connection  with 
Hapoleon.  He’s  an  able  man,  Dilworthy,  and  a good  man. 
A man  has  got  to  be  good  to  succeed  as  he  has.  He’s  only 
been  in  Congress  a few  years,  and  he  must  be  worth  a million. 
First  thing  in  the  morning  when  he  stayed  with  me  he  asked 
about  family  prayers,  whether  we  had  ’em  before  or  after 
breakfast.  I hated  to  disappoint  the  Senator,  but  I had  to 
out  with  it,  tell  him  we  didn’t  have  ’em,  not  steady.  He 
said  he  understood,  business  interruptions  and  all  that,  some 
men  were  well  enough  without,  but  as  for  him  he  never  neg- 
lected the  ordinances  of  religion.  He  doubted  if  the  Colum- 
bus Hiver  appropriation  would  succeed  if  we  did  not  invoke 
the  Divine  Blessing  on  it.” 

Perhaps  it  is  unnecessary  to  say  to  the  reader  that  Senator 
Dilworthy  had  not  stayed  with  Col.  Sellers  while  he  was  in 
Hawkeye;  this  visit  to  his  house  being  only  one  of  the  Col- 
onel’s hallucinations — one  of  those  instant  creations  of  his 
fertile  fancy,  which  were  always  flashing  into  his  brain  and 
out  of  his  mouth  in  the  course  of  any  conversation  and  with- 
out interrupting  the  flow  of  it. 

During  the  summer  Philip  rode  across  the  country  and 
made  a short  visit  in  Hawkeye,  giving  Harry  an  opportunity 


PHILIP  VISITS  LAURA. 


185 


to  show  him  the  progress  that  he  and  the  Colonel  had  made 
in  their  operation  at  Stone’s  Landing,  to  introduce  him  also 
to  Laura,  and  to  borrow  a little  money  when  he  departed. 
Harry  bragged  about  his  conquest,  as  was  his  habit,  and  took 
Philip  round  to  see  his  western  prize. 

Laura  received  Mr.  Pliilip  with  a courtesy  and  a slight 
hauteur  that  rather  surprised  and  not  a little  interested  him. 
He  saw  at  once  that  she  was  older  than  Harry,  and  soon  made 
up  his  mind  that  she  was  leading  his  friend  a country  dance 
to  which  he  was  unaccustomed.  At  least  he  thought  he  saw 
that,  and  half  hinted  as  much  to  Harry,  who  flared  up  at 
once ; but  on  a second  visit  Philip  was  not  so  sure,  the  young 
lady  was  certainly  kind  and  friendly  and  almost  conflding 
with  Harry,  and  treated  Philip  with  the  greatest  considera- 
tion. She  deferred  to  his  opinions,  and  listened  attentively 
when  he  talked,  and  in  time  met  his  frank  manner  with  an 
equal  frankness,  so  that  he  was  quite  convinced  that  what- 
ever she  might  feel  towards  Harry,  she  was  sincere  with  him. 
Perhaps  his -manly  way  did  win  her  liking.  Perhaps  in  her 
mind,  she  compared  him  with  Harry,  and  recognized  in 
him  a man  to  whom  a woman  might  give  her  whole  soul, 
recklessly  and  with  little  care  if  she  lost  it.  Philip  was 
not  invincible  to  her  beauty  nor  to  the  intellectual  charm  of 
her  presence. 

The  week  seemed  very  short  that  he  passed  in  Hawkeye, 
and  when  he  bade  Laura  good  by,  he  seemed  to  have  known 
her  a year. 

‘‘We  shall  see  you  again,  Mr.  Sterling,”  she  said  as  she 
gave  him  her  hand,  with  just  a shade  of  sadness  in  her  hand- 
some eyes. 

And  when  he  turned  away  she  followed  him  with  a look 
that  might  have  disturbed  his  serenity,  if  he  had  not  at  the 
moment  had  a little  square  letter  in  his  breast  pocket,  dated 
at  Philadelphia,  and  signed  “ Ruth.” 


CHAPTEH  XX. 


— biot)i)3loTi<vc  30  Ti)bu<vi6 
ceiUe,  “]  coTi)<xitile,  30  cc-aibb|ii6  t^lTice  ii)<v  b|ieic  <icc<xfi 
l<v  3-(VC  <vei)  AC  AT  cjob — 

The  visit  of  Senator  Abner  Dilworthy  was  an  event  in 
Hawkeye.  When  a Senator,  whose  place  is  in  Washing- 
ton moving  among  the  Great  and  guiding  the  destinies  of  tho 
nation,  condescends  to  mingle  among  the  people  and  accept 
the  hospitalities  of  such  a place  as  Hawkeye,  the  honor  is  not 
considered  a light  one.  All  parties  are  flattered  by  it  and 
politics  are  forgotten  in  the  presence  of  one  so  distinguished 
among  his  fellows. 

Senator  Dilworthy,  who  was  from  a neighboring  state^ 
had  been  a Unionist  in  the  darkest  days  of  his  country,  and 
had  thriven  by  it,  but  was  that  any  reason  why  Col.  Sellers^ 
who  had  been  a confederate  and  had  not  thriven  by  it,  should 
give  him  the  cold  shoulder  ? 

The  Senator  was  the  guest  of  his  old  friend  Gen.  Boswell^ 
but  it  almost  appeared  that  he  was  indebted  to  Col.  Sellers 
for  the  unreserved  hospitalities  of  the  town.  It  was  th& 
large  hearted  Colonel  who,  in  a manner,  gave  him  the  free- 
dom of  the  city. 

“You  are  known  here,  sir,’’  said  the  Colonel,^  and  Hawkeye 
is  proud  of  you.  You  will  find  every  door  open,  and  a wel- 
come at  every  hearthstone.  I should  insist  upon  your  going 

186 


A SPECULATING  RACE. 


18T 


to  my  house,  if  you  were  not  claimed  by  your  older  friend 
Gen.  Boswell.  But  you  will  mingle  with  our  people,  and 
you  will  see  here  developments  that  will  surprise  you.’’ 

The  Colonel  was  so  profuse  in  his  hospitality  that  he  must 
have  made  the  impression  upon  himself  that  he  had  enter- 
tained the  Senator  at  his  own  mansion  during  his  stay  ; at 
any  rate,  he  afterwards  always  spoke  of  him  as  his  guest,  and 
not  seldom  referred  to  the  Senator’s  relish  of  certain  viands 
on  his  table.  He  did,  in  fact,  press  him  to  dine  upon  the 
morning  of  the  day  the  Senator  was  going  away. 

Senator  Dilworthy  was  large  and  portly,  though  not  tall 
— a pleasant  spoken  man,  a popular  man  with  the  people. 

He  took  a lively  interest  in  the  town  and  all  the  surround- 
ing country,  and  made  many  inquiries  as  to  the  progress  of 
agriculture,  of  education,  and  of  religion,  and  especially  as  to 
the  condition  of  the  emancipated  race. 

Providence,”  he  said,  has  placed  them  in  our  hands, 
and  although  you  and  I,  General,  might  have  chosen  a differ- 
ent destiny  for  them,  under  the  Constitution,  yet  Providence 
knows  best.” 

You  can’t  do  much  with  ’em,”  interrupted  Col.  Sellers. 
“They  are  a speculating  race,  sir,  disinclined  to  work  for 
white  folks  without  security,  planning  how  to  live  by  only . 
working  for  themselves.  Idle,  sir,  there’s  my  garden  just 
a ruin  of  weeds.  Hothing  practical  in  ’em.” 

“ There  is  some  truth  in  your  observation.  Colonel,  but  you 
must  educate  them.” 

“You  educate  the  niggro  and  you  make  him  more  specu- 
lating than  he  was  before.  If  he  wmn’t  stick  to  any  industry 
except  for  himself  now,  what  will  he  do  then?” 

“ But,  Colonel,  the  negro  when  educated  will  be  more  able- 
to  make  his  speculations  fruitful.” 

“ Never,  sir,  never.  He  would  only  have  a wider  scope  to 
injure  himself.  A niggro  has  no  grasp,  sir.  Now,  a white 
man  can  conceive  great  operations,  and  carry  them  out ; a 
niggro  can’t.”  ’ 

“ Still,”  replied  the  Senator,  “granting  that  he  might  injure 


188 


THE  SENxVrOR’S  RECEPTION. 


Oiiinself  in  a worldly  point  of  view,  his  elevation  through 
education  would  multiply  his  chances  for  the  hereafter — 
wdiich  is  the  important  thing  after  all,  Colonel.  And  no 
matter  what  the  result  is,  we  must  fulfill  our  duty  by  this 
being.” 

‘‘  I’d  elevate  his  soul,”  promptly  responded  the  Colonel ; 
^‘that’s  just  it;  you  can’t  make  his  soul  too  immortal,  but  I 
wouldn’t  touch  himself.  Yes,  sir!  make  his  soul 

immortal,  but  don’t  disturb  the  niggro  as  he  is.” 

Of  course  one  of  the  entertainments  offered  the  Senator 
was  a public  reception,  held  in  the  court  house,  at  which  he 
made  a speech  to  his  fellow  citizens.  Col.  Sellers  was  master 
of  ceremonies.  He  escorted  the  band  from  the  city  hotel  to 
Gen.  Boswell’s;  he  marshalled  the  procession  of  Masons,  of 
Odd  Fellows,  and  of  Firemen,  the  Good  Templars,  the  Sons 
^of  Temperance,  the  Cadets  of  Temperance,  the  Daughters 
’Of  Kebecca,  the  Sunday  School  children,  and  citizens  gener- 
.ally,  which  followed  the  Senator  to  the  court  house  ; he  bus- 
tled about  the  room  long  after  every  one  else  was  seated,  and 


ORDER,  GENTLEMEN. 


loudly  cried  “Order!”  in  the  dead  silence  which  preceded 
the  introduction  of  the  Senator  by  Gen.  Boswell.  The  occasion 
was  one  to  call  out  his  finest  powers  of  personal  appearance, 
.and  one  he  long  dwelt  on  with  pleasure. 


THE  SENATOR’S  SPEECH. 


18’9 


This  not  being  an  edition  of  the  Congressional  Globe  it  is 
impossible  to  give  Senator  Dilworthj’s  speech  in  full.  He 
began  somewhat  as  follows  : — 

Fellow  citizens  : It  gives  me  great  pleasure  to  thus  meet 
and  mingle  with  you,  to  lay  aside  for  a moment  the  heavy 
duties  of  an  official  and  burdensome  station,  and  confer  in 
familiar  converse  with  my  friends  in  your  great  state.  The 
good  opinion  of  my  fellow  citizens  of  all  sections  is  the  sweet- 
est solace  in  all  my  anxieties.  I look  forward  with  longing 
to  the  time  when  I can  lay  aside  the  cares  of  office — ” 

. [“  dam  sight,”  shouted  a tipsy  fellow  near  the  door.  Cries  of 
put  him  out.”  ] 

My  friends,  do  not  remove  him.  Let  the  misguided  man. 
stay.  I see  that  he  is  a victim  of  that  evil  which  is  swallow- 
ing up  public  virtue  and  sapping  the  foundation  of  society. 
As  I was  saying,  when  I can  lay  dt>wn  the  cares  of  office  and 
retire  to  the  sweets  of  private  life  in  some  such  sweet,  j)eace- 
ful,  intelligent,  wide-awake  and  patriotic  place  as  Hawkeye 
(applause).  I have  traveled  much,  I have  seen  all  parts  of 
our  glorious  union,  but  I have  never  seen  a lovelier  village 
than  yours,  or  one  that  has  more  signs  of  commercial  and 
industrial  and  religious  prosperity — (more  applause).” 

The  Senator  then  launched  into  a sketch  of  our  great 
country,  and  dwelt  for  an  hour  or  more  upon  its  prosperity 
and  the  dangers  which  threatened  it. 

He  then  touched  reverently  upon  the  institutions  of  relig- 
ion, and  upon  the  necessity  of  private  purity,  if  we  were  to 
have  auy  public  morality.  I trust,”  he  said,  that  there 
are  children  within  the  sound  of  my  voice,”  and  after  some 
remarks  to  them,  the  Senator  closed  with  an  apostrophe  to 
‘Hhe  genius  of  American  Liberty,  walking  with  the  Sunday 
School  in  one  hand  and  Temperance  in  the  other  up  the  glo- 
rified steps  of  the  National  Capitol.” 

Col.  Sellers  did  not  of  course  lose  the  opportunity  to 
impress  upon  so  influential  a person  as  the  Senator  the 
• desirability  of  improving  the  navigation  of  Columbus  river. 
He  and  Mr.  Brierly  took  the  Senator  over  to  Napoleon  and 
opened  to  him  their  plan.  It  was  a plan  that  the  Senator 


190 


THE  EAILROAD  THAT  “ HAINT  COME.” 


could  understand  without  a great  deal  of  explanation,  for  he 
seemed  to  be  familiar  with  the  like  improvements  elsewhere. 
When,  however,  they  reached  Stone’s  Landing  the  Senator 
looked  about  him  and  inquired, 

“ Is  this  Napoleon 

“ This  is  the  nucleus,  the  nucleus,”  said  the  Colonel,  unroll- 
ing his  map.  Here  is  the  deepo,  the  church,  the  City  Hall 
^nd  so  on.” 

‘^Ah,  I see.  How  far  from  here  is  Columbus  River? 
Hoes  that  stream  empty — ” 

“ That,  why,  that’s  Goose  Run.  Thar  ain’t  no  Columbus, 
thout’n  it’s  over  to  Hawkeye,”  interrupted  one  of  the  citizens, 
who  had  come  out  to  stare  at  the  strangers.  “ A railroad 
come  here  last  summer,  but  it  haint  been  here  no  mo’.” 

‘‘Yes,  sir,”  the  Colonel  hastened  to  explain,  “ in  the  old 
records  Columbus  River  called  Goose  Run.  You  see  how 
it  sweeps  round  the  town — forty-nine  miles  to  the  Missouri ; 
sloop  navigation  all  ‘the  way  pretty  much,  drains  this  whole 
country ; when  it’s  improved  steamboats  will  run  right  up 
here.  It’s  got  to  be  enlarged,  deepened.  You  see  by  the 
map,  Columbus  River.  This  country  must  have  water  com- 
munication !” 

“You’ll  want  a considerable  appropriation.  Col.  Sellers. 

“ I should  say  a million ; is  that  your  figure  Mr.  Brierly.” 

“ According  to  our  surveys,”  said  Harry,  “ a million  would 
do  it ; a million  spent  on  the  river  would  make  Napoleon 
worth  two  millions  at  least.” 

“ I see,”  nodded  the  Senator.  “ But  you’d  better  begin  by 
asking  only  for  two  or  three  hundred  thousand,  the  usual 
way.  You  can  begin  to  sell  town  lots  on  that  appropriation, 
you  know.” 

The  Senator,  himself,  to  do  him  justice,  was  not  very  much 
interested  in  the  country  or  the  stream,but  he  favored  the  appro- 
priation, and  he  gave  the  Colonel  and  Mr.  Brierly  to  understand 
that  he  would  endeavor  to  get  it  through.  Harry,  who 
thought  he  was  shrewd  and  understood  Washington,  suggest- 
ed an  interest. 


WASHINGTON  IN  LUCK. 


191 


But  lie  saw  that  the  Senator  was  wounded  by  the  sugges- 
tion. 

You  will  offend  me  by  repeating  such  an  observation,” 
he  said.  Whatever  I do  will  be  for  the  public  interest.  It 
will  require  a portion  of  the  appropriation  for  necessary  ex- 
penses, and  I am  sorry  to  say  that  there  are  members  who 
will  have  to  be  seen.  But  you  can  reckon  upon  my  humble 
services.” 

This  aspect  of  the  subject  was  not  again  alluded  to.  The 
Senator  possessed  himself  of  the  facts,  not  from  his  observa- 
tion of  the  ground,  but  from  the  lips  of  Col.  Sellers,  and  laid 
the  appropriation  scheme  away  among  his  other  plans  for 
benefiting  the  public. 

It  was  on  this  visit  also  that  the  Senator  made  the  acquaint- 
ance of  Mr.  Washington  Hawkins,  and  was  greatly  taken 
with  his  innocence,  his  guileless  manner  and  perhaps  with 
his  ready  adaptability  to  enter  upon  any  plan  proposed. 

Col.  Sellers  was  pleased  to  see  this  interest  that  Washing- 
ton had  awakened,  especially  since  it  was  likely  to  further  his 
expectations  with  regard  to  the  Tennessee  lands ; the  Senator 
having  remarked  to  the  Colonel,  that  he  delighted  to  help 
any  deserving  young  man,  when  the  promotion  of  a private 
advantage  could  at  the  same  time  be  made  to  contribute  to 
the  general  good.  And  he  did  not  doubt  that  this  was  an 
opportunity  of  that  kind. 

The  result  of  several  conferences  with  Washington  was 
that  the  Senator  proposed  that  he  should  go  to  Washington 
with  him  and  become  his  private  secretary  and  the  secretary 
of  his  committee ; a proposal  which  was  eagerly  accepted. 

The  Senator  spent  Sunday  in  Hawkeye  and  attended 
church.  He  cheered  the  heart  of  the  worthy  and  zealous 
minister  by  an  expression  of  his  sympathy  in  his  labors,  and 
by  many  inquiries  in  regard  to  the  religious  state  of  the 
region.  It  was  not  a very  promising  state,  and  the  good  man 
felt  how  much  lighter  his  task  would  be,  if  he  had  the  aid  of 
such  a man  as  Senator  Dilworthy. 

“ I am  glad  to  see.  my  dear  sir,”  said  the  Senator,  “ that 
you  give  them  the  doctrines.  It  is  owing  to  a neglect  of  the 


192 


THE  SENATOR  MEETS  LAURA. 


doctrines,  that  there  is  such  a fearful  falling  away  in  the 
country.  I wish  that  we  might  have  you  in  Washington — 
as  chaplain,  now,  in  the  senate.” 

The  good  man  could  not  but  be  a little  flattered,  and  if 
sometimes,  thereafter,  in  his  discouraging  work,  he  allowed 
the  thought  that  he  might  perhaps  be  called  to  Washington 
as  chaplain  of  the  Senate,  to  cheer  him,  who  can  wonder. 
The  Senator’s  commendation  at  least  did  one  service  for  him, 
it  elevated  him  in  tlie  opinion  of  Ilawkeye. 

Laura  was  at  church  alone  that  day,  and  Mr.  Brierly  walked 
home  with  her.  A part  of  their  way  lay  with  that  of  Gen- 
eral Boswell  and  Senator  Dilworthy,  and  introductions  were 
made.  Laura  had  her  own  reasons  for  wishing  to  know  the 
Senator,  and  the  Senator  was  not  a man  who  could  be  called 
indiflerent  to  charms  such  as  hers.  That  meek  young 
lady  so  commended  herself  to  him  in  the  short  walk,  that  he 


announced  his  intentions  of  paying  his  respects  to  her  the 
next  day,  an  intention  which  Harry  received  glumly ; and 


HARKY  JEALOUS  AND  INFATUATED.  193 

when  the  Senator  was  out  of  hearing  he  called  him  “ an  old 
fool.’’ 

“ Fie,”  said  Laura,  “ I do  believe  you  are  jealous,  Harry. 
He  is  a very  pleasant  man.  He  said  you  were  a young  man 
of  great  promise.” 

The  Senator  did  call  next  day,  and  the  result  of  his 
visit  was  that  he  was  confirmed  in  his  impression  that  there 
was  something  about  him  very  attractive  to  ladies.  He  saw 
Laura  again  and  again  during  his  stay,  and  felt  more  and  more 
the  subtle  influence  of  her  feminine  beauty,  which  every  man 
felt  who  came  near  her. 

Harry  was  beside  himself  with  rage  while  the  Senator  re- 
mained in  town ; he  declared  that  women  were  always  ready 
to  drop  any  man  for  higher  game ; and  he  attributed  his  own 
ill-luck  to  the  Senator’s  appearance.  The  fellow  was  in  fact 
crazy  about  her  beauty  and  ready  to  beat  his  brains  out  in 
chagrin.  Perhaps  Laura  enjoyed  his  torment,  but  she  sooth- 
ed him  with  blandishments  that  increased  his  ardor,  and  she 
smiled  to  herself  to  think  that  he  had,  with  all  his  protesta- 
tions of  love,  never  spoken  of  marriage.  Probably  the  viva- 
cious fellow  never  had  thought  of  it.  At  any  rate  when  he 
at  length  went  away  from  Hawkeye  he  was  no  nearer  it. 
But  there  was  no  telling  to  what  desperate  lengths  his  passion 
might  not  carry  him. 

Laura  bade  him  good  bye  with  tender  regret,  which,  how- 
ever, did  not  disturb  her  peace  or  interfere  with  her  plans. 
The  visit  of  Senator  Dilworthy  had  become  of  more  impor- 
tance to  her,  and  it  by  and  by  bore  the  fruit  she  longed  for, 
in  an  invitation  to  visit  his  family  in  the  National  Capital 
during  the  winter  session  of  Congress. 

13 


CHAPTER  XXL 


Unusquisque  sua  noverit  ire  via. — 

Propert.  Eleg.  26. 

0 lift  your  natures  up : 

Embrace  our  aims : work  out  your  freedom.  Girls, 

Knowledge  is  now  no  more  a fountain  sealed ; 

Drink  deep  until  the  habits  of  the  slave, 

The  sins  of  emptiness,  gossip  and  spite 

And  slander,  die.  The  Princess. 

WHETHER  medicine  is  a science,  or  only  an  empirical 
method  of  getting  a living  out  of  the  ignorance  of  the 
human  race,  Ruth  found  before  her  first  term  was  over  at 
the  medical  school  that  there  were  other  things  she  needed 
to  know  quite  as  much  as  that  which  is  taught  in  medical 
books,  and  that  she  could  never  satisfy  her  aspirations  with- 
out more  general  culture. 

Does  your  doctor  know  any  thing — I don’t  mean  about 
medicine,  but  about  things  in  general,  is  he  a man  of  infor- 
mation and  good  sense?”  once  asked  an  old  practitioner. 
‘‘  If  he  doesn’t  know  any  thing  but  medicine  the  chance  is  he 
doesn’t  know  that.” 

The  close  application  to  her  special  study  was  beginning 
to  tell  upon  Ruth’s  delicate  health  also,  and  the  summer 
brought  with  it  only  weariness  and  indisposition  for  any 
mental  effort. 

In  this  condition  of  mind  and  body  the  quiet  of  her  home 
and  the  unexciting  companionship  of  those  about  her  were 
more  than  ever  tiresome. 

She  followed  with  more  interest  Philip’s  sparkling  account 

194: 


RUTH  AT  A SEMINARY. 


195 


of  his  life  in  the  west,  and  longed  for  his  experiences,  and 
to  know  some  of  those  people  of  a world  so  different  from 
hers,  who  alternately  amused  and  displeased  him.  He  at 
least  was  learning  the  world,  the  good  and  the  bad  of  it,  as 
must  happen  to  every  one  who  accomplishes  anything  in  it. 

But  what,  Ruth  wrote,  could  a woman  do,  tied  up  by  cus- 
tom, and  cast  into  particular  circumstances  out  of  which  it 
was  almost  impossible  to  extricate  herself?  Philip  thought 
that  he  would  go  some  day  and  extricate  Ruth,  but  he  did 
not  write  that,  for  he  had  the  instinct  to  know  that  this  was 
not  the  extrication  she  dreamed  of,  and  that  she  must  find 
out  by  her  own  experience  what  her  heart  really  wanted. 

Philip  was  not  a philosopher,  to  be  sure,  but  he  had  the 
old  fashioned  notion,  that  whatever  a woman’s  theories  of 
life  might  be,  she  would  come  round  to  matrimony,  only 
give  her  time.  He  could  indeed  recall  to  mind  one  woman — 
and  he  never  knew  a nobler — whose  whole  soul  was  devoted 
and  who  believed  that  her  life  was  consecrated  to  a certain 
benevolent  project  in  singleness  of  life,  who  yielded  to  the 
touch  of  matrimony,  as  an  icicle  yields  to  a sunbeam. 

Neither  at  home  nor  elsewhere  did  Ruth  utter  any  com- 
plaint, or  admit  any  weariness  or  doubt  of  her  ability  to  pur- 
sue the  path  she  had  marked  out  for  herself.  ‘But  her  mother 
saw  clearly  enough  her  struggle  with  infirmity,  and  was  not 
deceived  by  either  her  gaiety  or  by  the  cheerful  composure 
which  she  carried  into  all  the  ordinary  duties  that  fell  to  her. 
She  saw  plainly  enough  that  Ruth  needed  an  entire  change 
of  scene  and  of  occupation,  and  perhaps  she  believed  that 
such  a change,  with  the  knowledge  of  the  world  it  would 
bring,  would  divert  Ruth  from  a course  for  which  she  felt 
she  was  physically  entirely  unfitted. 

It  therefore  suited  the  wishes  of  all  concerned,  when  autumn 
<3ame,  that  Ruth  should  go  away  to  school.  She  selected  a 
large  New  England  Seminary,  of  which  she  had  often  heard 
Philip  speak,  which  was  attended  by  both  sexes  and  offered 
almost  collegiate  advantages  of  education.  Thither  she  went 
in  September,  and  began  for  the  second  time  in  the  year  a 
life  new  to  her. 


196  THE  MONTAGUES. 

The  Seminary  was  the  chief  feature  of  Fallkill,  a villager 
of  two  to  three  thousand  inhabitants.  It  was  a prosperous- 
school,  with  three  hundred  students,  a large  corps  of  teachers, 
men  and  women,  and  with  a venerable  rusty  row  of  academic- 
buildings  on  the  shaded  square  of  the  town.  The  students 
lodged  and  boarded  in  private  families  in  the  place,  and  so  it 
came  about  that  while  the  school  did  a great  deal  to  support  the 
town,  the  town  gave  the  students  society  and  the  sweet  influ- 
ences of  home  life.  It  is  at  least  respectful  to  say  that  the 
influences  of  home  life  are  sweet. 

Ruth’s  home,  by  the  intervention  of  Philip,  was  in  a fam- 
ily— one  of  the  rare  exceptions  in  life  or  in  Action — that  had 
never  known  better  days.  The  Montagues,  it  is  perhaps  well 
to  say,  had  intended  to  come  over  in  the  Mayflower,  but  were 
detained  at  Delft  Haven  by  the  illness  of  a child.  They  came 
over  to  Massachusetts  Bay  in  another  vessel,  and  thus  escaped 
the  onus  of  that  brevet  nobility  under  which  the  successors 
of  the  Mayflower  Pilgrims  have  descended.  Having  no- 
factitious  weight  of  dignity  to  carry,  the  Montagues  steadily 
improved  their  condition  from  the  day  they  landed,  and  they 
were  never  more  vigorous  or  prosperous  than  at  the  date  of 
this  narrative.  With  character  compacted  by  the  rigid  Puri- 
tan discipline  of  more  than  two  centuries,  they  had  retained 
its  strength  and  purity  and  thrown  off  its  narrowness,  and 

were  now  blossoming  un-^ 
der  the  generous  modern 
influences.  Squire  Oli- 
ver Montague,  a lawyer 
who  had  retired  from  the 
practice  of  his  profession 
except  in  rare  cases, 
dwelt  in  a square  old 
fashioned  Hew  England 
mansion  a quarter  of  a 
mile  away  from  the  green.  It  was  called  a mansion  because 
it  stood  alone  with  ample  flelds  about  it,  and  had  an  avenue 
of  trees  leading  to  it  from  the  road,  and  on  the  west  commanded 
a view  of  a pretty  little  lake  with  gentle  slopes  and  nodding 


A NEW  ENGLAND  HOME.  197 

groves.  But  it  was  just  a plain,  roomy  house,  capable  of 
extending  to  many  guests  an  unpretending  hospitality. 

The  family  consisted  of  the  Squire  and  his  wife,  a son  and 
a daughter  married  and  not  at  home,  a son  in  college  at  Cam- 
bridge, another  son  at  the  Seminary,  and  a daughter  Alice, 
who  was  a year  or  more  older  than  Buth.  Having  only 
riches  enough  to  be  able  to  gratify  reasonable  desires,  and 
yet  make  their  gratifications  always  a novelty  and  a pleasure, 
the  family  occupied  that  just  mean  in  life  which  is  so  rarely 
attained,  and  still  more  rarely  enjoyed  without  discontent. 

If  Ruth  did  not  find  so  much  luxury  in  the  house  as  in  her 
own  home,  there  were  evidences  of  culture,  of  intellectual 
activity  and  of  a zest  in  the  affairs  of  all  the  world,  which 
greatly  impressed  her.  Every  room  had  its  book-cases  or 
book-shelves,  and  was 
more  or  less  a library ; 
upon  every  table  was  lia- 
ble to  be  a litter  of  new 
books,  fresh  periodicals  and 
daily  newspapers.  There 
were  plants  in  the  sunny 
windows  and  some  choice 
engravings  on  the  walls,' 
with  bits  of  color  in  oil  or 
water-colors ; the  piano 
was  sure  to  be  open  and 
strewn  with  music;  and  there  were  photograpb.s  and  lit- 
tle souvenirs  here  and  there  of  foreign  travel.  An  absence 
of  any  what-nots ’Mn  the  corners  with  rows  of  cheerful 
shells,  and  Hindoo  gods,  and  Chinese  idols,  and  nests  of  use- 
less boxes  of  lacquered  wood,  might  be  taken  as  denot- 
ing a languidness  in  the  family  concerning  foreign 
missions,  but  perhaps  unjustly. 

At  any  rate  the  life  of  the  world  flowed  freely  into  this 
hospitable  house,  and  there  was  always  so  much  talk  there  of 
the  news  of  the  day,  of  the  new  books  and  of  authors,  of 
Boston  radicalism  and  Hew  York  civilization,  and  the  virtue 


198 


NEW  FRIENDSHIP. 


of  Congress,  that  small  gossip  stood  a very  poor  chance. 

All  this  was  in  many  ways  so  new  to  Kuth  that  she  seemed 
to  have  passed  into  another  world,  in  which  she  experienced  a 
freedom  and  a mental  exhilaration  unknown  to  her  before. 
Under  this  influence  she  entered  upon  her  studies  with  keen 
enjoyment,  finding  for  a time  all  the  relaxation,  she  needed, 
in  the  charming  social  life  at  the  Montague  house. 

It  is  strange,  she  wrote  to  Philip,  in  one  of  her  occasional 
letters,  that  you  never  told  me  more  about  this  delightful 
family,  and  scarcely  mentioned  Alice  who  is  the  life  of  it,. 
just  the  noblest  girl,  unselfish,  knows  how  to  do  so  many 
things,  with  lots  of  talent,  with  a dry  humor,  and  an  odd  way 
of  looking  at  things,  and  yet  quiet  and  even  serious  often — 
one  of  your  “capable”  New  England  girls.  We  shall  bo 
great  friends.  It  had  never  occurred  to  Philip  that  there  was^ 
any  thing  extraordinary  about  the  family  that  needed  men- 
tion. He  knew  dozens  of  girls  like  Alice,  he  thought  to  him- 
self, but  only  one  like  Ruth. 

Good  friends  the  two  girls  were  from  the  beginning. 
Ruth  was  a study  to  Alice,  the  product  of  a culture  entirely 
foreign  to  her  experience,  so  much  a child  in  some  things, 
so  much  a woman  in  others ; and  Ruth  in  turn,  it  must  be 
confessed,  probing  Alice  sometimes  with  her  serious  grey 
eyes,  wondered  what  her  object  in  life  was,  and  whether  she 
had  any  purpose  beyond  living  as  she  now  saw  her.  For 
she  could  scarcely  conceive  of  a life  that  should  not  be  devo- 
ted to  the  accomplishment  of  some  definite  work,  and  she 
had  no  doubt  that  in  her  own  case  everything  else  would 
yield  to  the  professional  career  she  had  marked  out. 

“ So  you  know  Philip  Sterling,”  said  Ruth  one  day  as  the 
girls  sat  at  their  sewing.  Ruth  never  embroidered,  and 
never  sewed  when  she  could  avoid  it.  Bless  her. 

“ Oh  yes,  we  are  old  friends.  Philip  used  to  come  to 
Fallkill  often  while  he  was  in  college.  He  'was  once  rustica- 
ted here  for  a term.” 

“ Rusticated  ? ” 


PHILIP  ENQUIRED  AFTER. 


199 


“Suspended  for  some  College  scrape.  He  was  a great 
favorite  here.  Father  and  he  were  famous  friends.  Father 
said  that  Philip  had  no  end  of  nonsense  in  him  and  was 
always  blundering  into  something,  hut  he  was  a royal  good 
fellow  and  would  come  out  all  right’” 

“Did  you  think  he  was  fickle ?” 

“Why,  I never  thought  whether  he  was  or  not,”  replied 
Alice  looking  up.  “ I suppose  he  was  always  in  love  with 
some  girl  or  another,  as  college  boys  are.  He  used  to  make 
me  his  confidant  now  and  then,  and  he  terribly  in  the 
dumps.” 

“ Why  did  he  come  to  you  ? ” pursued  Ruth  you  were 
younger  than  he.” 

■ “ I’m  sure  I don’t  know.  He  was  at  our  house  a good  deal. 

Once  at  a picnic  by  the  lake,  at  the  risk  of  his  own  life,  he 
saved  sister  Millie  from  drowning,  and  we  all  liked  to  have 
him  here.  Perhaps  he  thought  as  he  had  saved  one  sister, 
the  other  ought  to  help  him  when  he  was  in  trouble.  I don’t 
know.” 

The  fact  was  that  Alice  was  a person  who  invited  confi- 
dences, because  she  never  betrayed  them,  and  gave  abundant 
sympathy  in  return.  There  are  persons,  whom  we  all  know, 
to  whom  human  confidences,  troubles  and  heart-aches  flow  as 
naturally  as  streams  to  a placid  lake. 

This  is  not  a history  of  Fallkill,  nor  of  the  Montague  fam- 
ily, worthy  as  both  are  of  that  honor,  and  this  narrative  can- 
not be  diverted  into  long  loitering  with  them.  If  the  reader 
visits  the  village  to-day,  he  will  doubtless  be  pointed  out  the 
Montague  dwelling,  where  Ruth  lived,  the  cross-lots  path  she 
traversed  to  the  Seminary,  'and  the  venerable  chapel  with  its 
cracked  bell. 

In  the  little  society  of  the  place,  the  Quaker  girl  was  a 
favorite,  and  no  considerable  social  gathering  or  pleasure  party 
was  thought  complete  without  her.  There  was  something  in 
this  seemingly  transparent  and  yet  deep  character,  in  her 
childlike  gaiety  and  enjoyment  of  the  society  about  her,  and 


200 


RUTH  IN  SOCIETY. 


in  her  not  seldom  absorption  in  herself,  that  would  have 
made  her  long  remembered  there  if  no  events  had  subsequent- 
ly occurred  to  recall  her  to  mind. 

To  the  surprise  of  Alice,  Ruth  took  to  the  small  gaieties  of 
the  village  with  a zest  of  enjoyment  that  seemed  foreign  to 
one  who  had  devoted  her  life  to  a serious  profession  from  the 
highest  motives.  Alice  liked  society  well  enough,  she  thought, 
but  there  was  nothing  exciting  in  that  of  Fallkill,  nor  any- 
thing novel  in  the  attentions  of  the  well-bred  young  gentle- 
men one  met  in  it.  It  must  have  worn  a different  aspect  to 
Buth,  for  she  entered  into  its  pleasures  at  first  with  curi- 
osity, and  then  with  interest  and  finally  with  a kind  of  staid 
abandon  that  no  one  would  have  deemed  possible  for  her. 
Parties,  picnics,  rowing-matches,  moonlight  strolls,  nutting- 


tion.  The  fondness  of  Ruth,  which  was  scarcely  disguised, 
for  the  company  of  agreeable  young  fellows,  wdio  talked 
nothings,  gave  Alice  opportunity  for  no  end  of  banter. 


“ Do  you  look  upon  them  as  ‘subjects,’  dear?  ” she  would 
ask. 

And  Ruth  laughed  her  merriest  laugh,  and  then  looked 
sober  again.  Perhaps  she  was  thinking,  after  all,  whether 
she  knew  herself. 


MISTAKES  OF  NOVELISTS. 


201 


If  you  should  rear  a duck  in  the  heart  of  the  Sahara,  no 
doubt  it  would  swim  if  you  brought  it  to  the  Nile. 

Surely  no  one  would  have  predicted  when  Kuth  left  Phil- 
adelphia that  she  would  become  absorbed  to  this  extent,  and 
so  happy,  in  a life  so  unlike  that  she  thought  she  desired. 
But  no  one  can  tell  how  a woman  will  act  under  any  circum- 
stances. The  reason  novelists  nearly  always  fail  in  depicting 
women  when  they  make  them  act,  is  that  they  let  them  do 
what  they  have  observed  some  woman  has  done  at  sometime 
or  another.  And  that  is  where  they  make  a mistake;  for  a 
woman  will  never  do  again  what  has  been  done  before.  It  is 
this  uncertainty  that  causes  women,  considered  as  materials 
for  fiction,  to  be  so  interesting  to  themselves  and  to  others. 

As  the  fall  went  on  and  the  winter,  Ruth  did  not  distin- 
guish herself  greatly  at  the  Fallkill  Seminary  as  a student,  a 
fact  that  apparently  gave  her  no  anxiety,  and  did  not  dimin- 
ish her  enjoyment  of  a new  sort  of  power  which  had  awaken- 
ed within  her. 


CHAPTEE  XXII. 


Wohl  giebt  es  im  Leben  kein  siisseres  Gliick, 

Als  der  Liebe  Gestandniss  itn  Liebchen’s  Blick; 

Wohl  giebt  es  im  Leben  nicht  hohere  Lust, 

Als  Freuden  der  Liebe  an  liebender  Brust. 

Dem  hat  nie  das  Leben  f reundlich  begegnet,  * 

Den  nicht  die  Weihe  der  Liebe  gesegnet. 

Doch  der  Liebe  Gliick,  so  himmlisch,  so  schon, 

Kann  nie  ohne  Glauben  an  Tugend  bestehn. 

Komer, 

O ke  aloha  ka  mea  i oi  aku  ka  maikai  mamua  o ka  umeki  poi  a me  ka 
ipnkaia. 


I IT  mid-winter,  an  event  occurred  of  unusual  interest  to  the 
inhabitants  of  the  Montague  house,  and  to  the  friends  of 
the  young  ladies  who  sought  their  society. 

This  was  the  arrival  at  the  Sassacus  Hotel  of  two  young 
gentlemen  from  the  west. 

It  is  the  fashion  in  Hew  England  to  give  Indian  names  to 
the  public  houses,  not  that  the  late  lamented  savage  knew 
how  to  keep  a hotel,  but  that  his  warlike  name  may  impress 
the  traveler  who  humbly  craves  shelter  there,  and  make  him 
grateful  to  the  noble  and  gentlemanly  clerk  if  he  is  allowed 
to  depart  with  his  scalp  safe. 

The  two  young  gentlemen  were  neither  students  for  the 
Eallkill  Seminary,  nor  lecturers  on  physiology,  nor  yet  life 
assurance  solicitors,  three  suppositions  that  almost  exhausted 
the  guessing  power  of  the  people  at  the  hotel  in  respect  to 


202 


A TRIP  EAST. 


20S 


the  names  of  “ Philip  Sterling  and  Henry  Brierly,  Missouri,’^ 
on  the  register.  They  were  handsome  enough  fellows,  that 
was  evident,  browned  by  out-door  exposure,  and  with  a free 
and  lordly  way  about  them  that  almost  awed  the  hotel  clerk 
himself.  Indeed,  he  very  soon  set  down  Mr.  Brierly  as  a 
gentleman  of  large  fortune,  with  enormous  interests  on  his 
shoulders.  Harry  had  a way  of  casually  mentioning  western 
investments,  through  lines,  the  freighting  business,  and  the 
route  through  the  Indian  territory  to  Lower  California,  which. 
was  calculated  to  give  an  importance  to  his  lightest  word. 

‘^You’ve  a pleasant  town  here,  sir,  and  the  most  comfort- 
able looking  hotel  I’ve  seen  out  of  Hew  York,”  said  Harry 
to  the  clerk  ; “ we  shall  stay  here  a few  days  if  you  can  give 
us  a roomy  suite  of  apartments.” 

Harry  usually  had  the  best  of  everything,  wherever  he 
went,  as  such  fellows  always  do  have  in  this  accommodating 
world.  Philip  would  have  been  quite  content  with  less  ex- 
pensive quarters,  but  there  w^as  no  resisting  Harry’s  gener- 
osity in  such  matters. 

Railroad  surveying  and  real-estate  operations  were  at  a 
standstill  during  the  winter  in  Missouri,  and  the  young  men 
had  taken  advantage  of  the  lull  to  come  east,  Philip  to  see  if 
there  was  any  disposition  in  his  friends,  the  railway  con- 
tractors, to  give  him  a share  in  the  Salt  Lick  Union  Pacific 
Extension,  and  Harry  to  open  out  to  his  uncle  the  prospects- 
of  the  new  city  at  Stone’s  Landing,  and  to  procure  congres- 
sional appropriations  for  the  harbor  and  for  making  Goose 
Run  navigable.  Harry  had  with  him  a map  of  that  noble 
stream  and  of  the  harbor,  with  a perfect  net-work  of  rail- 
roads centering  in  it,  pictures  of  wharves,  crowded  with 
steamboats,  and  of  huge  grain-elevators  on  the  bank,  all  of 
which  grew  out  of  the  combined  imaginations  of  Col.  Sellers 
and  Mr.  Brierly.  The  Colonel  had  entire  confidence  in 
Harry’s  influence  with  Wall  street,  and  with  congressmen,  to* 
bring  about  the  consummation  of  their  scheme,  and  he  waited 
his  return  in  the  empty  house  at  Hawkeye,  feeding  his- 


S04 


A VISIT  TO  F ALLKILL. 


pinched  family  npon  tlie  most  gorgeous  expectations  with  a 
reckless  prodigality. 

“ Don’t  let  ’em  into  the  thing  more  than  is  necessary,”  says 
the  Colonel  to  Harry ; ‘‘  give  ’em  a small  interest ; a lot 
apiece  in  the  suburbs  of  the  Landing  ought  to  do  a congress- 
man, but  I reckon  you’ll  have  to  mortgage  a part  of  the  city 
atself  to  the  brokers.” 

Harry  did  not  find  that  eagerness  to  lend  money  on  Stone’s 
Landing  in  Wall  street  which  Col.  Sellers  had  expected,  (it 
had  seen  too  many  such  maps  as  he  exhibited),  although  his 
uncle  and  some  of  the  brokers  looked  with  more  favor  on 
the  appropriation  for  improving  the  navigation  of  Columbus 
Kiver,  and  were  not  disinclined  to  form  a company  for  that 
purpose.  An  appropriation  w^as  a tangible  thing,  if  you 
could  get  hold  of  it,  and  it  made  little  difference  what  it  was 
appropriated  for,  so  long  as  you  got  hold  of  it. 

Pending  these  w^eighty  negotiations,  Philip  has  persuaded 
Harry  to  take  a little  run  up  to  Fallkill,  a not  difficult  task, 
for  that  young  man  wmuld  at  any  time  have  turned  his  back 
upon  all  the  land  in  the  West  at  sight  of  a new  and  pretty 
face,  and  he  had,  it  must  be  confessed,  a facility  in  love  mak- 
ing which  made  it  not  at  all  an  interference  with  the  more 
serious  business  of  life.  He  could  not,  to  be  sure,  conceive 
how  Philip  could  be  interested  in  a young  lady  who  was 
studying  medicine,  but  he  had  no  objection  to  going,  for  he 
did  not  doubt  that  there  w^ere  other  girls  in  Fallkill  who  were 
wmrth  a wmek’s  attention. 

The  young  men  wmre  received  at  the  house  of  the  Mon- 
tagues wdth  the  hospitality  wdiicli  never  failed  there. 

^‘We  are  glad  to  see  you  again,”  exclaimed  the  Squire 
heartily  ; “ you  are  welcome  Mr.  Brierly,  any  friend  of  Phil’s 
is  welcome  at  our  house.” 

It’s  more  like  home  to  me,  than  any  place  except  my  own 
liome,”  cried  Philip,  as  he  looked  about  the  cheerful  house 
and  went  through  a general  hand-shaking. 

‘‘It’s  a long  time,  thoimli,  since  you  have  been  here  to  say 


MEETING  OF  RUTH  AND  PHILIP.  205 

80,”  Alice  said,  with  her  father’s  frankness  of  manner ; and 
I suspect  we  owe  the  visit  now  to  your  sudden  interest  in 
the  Fallkill  Seminary.” 

Philip’s  color  came,  as  it  had  an  awkward  way  of  doing  in 
his  tell-tale  face,  but  before  he  could  stammer  a reply,  Harry 
came  in  with, 

‘‘  That  accounts  for  Phil’s  wish  to  build  a Seminary  at 
Stone’s  Landing,  our  place  in  Missouri,  when  Col.  Sellers 
insisted  it  should  be  a University.  Phil  appears  to  have  a 
weakness  for  Seminaries.” 

“ It  would  have  been  better  for  your  friend  Sellers,”  re- 
torted Philip,  “ if  he  had  had  a weakness  for  district  schools. 
Col.  Sellers,  Miss  Alice,  is  a great  friend  of  Harry’s,  who  is 
always  trying  to  build  a house  by  beginning  at  the  top.” 

“I  suppose  it’s  as  easy  to  build  a University  on  paper  as  a 
Seminary,  and  it  looks  better,”  was  Harry’s  reflection;  at 
which  the  Squire  laughed,  and  said  he  quite  agreed  with  him.. 
The  old  gentleman  understood  Stone’s  Landing  a good  deal- 
better  than  he  would  have  done  after  an  hour’s  talk  with 
either  of  it’s  expectant  proprietors. 

At  this  moment,  and  while  Philip  was  trying  to  frame  a 
question  that  he  found  it  exceedingly  difficult  to  put  into 
words,  the  door  opened  quietly,  and  Puth  entered.  Taking 
in  the  group  with  a quick  glance,  her  eye  lighted  up,  and 
with  a merry  smile  she  advanced  and  shook  hands  with  Philip. 
She  was  so  unconstrained  and  sincerely  cordial,  that  it  made 
that  hero  of  the  west  feel  somehow  young,  and  very  ill  at 
ease. 

For  months  and  months  he  had  thought  of  this  meeting 
and  pictured  it  to  himself  a hundred  times,  but  he  had  never 
imagined  it  would  be  like  this.  He  should  meet  Puth  unex- 
pectedly, as  she  was  walking  alone  from  the  school,  perhaps, 
or  entering  the  room  where  he  was  waiting  for  her,  and  she 
would  cry  “ Oh ! Phil,”  and  then  check  herself,  and  perhaps 
blush,  and  Philip  calm  but  eager  and  enthusiastic,  would  re- 
assure her  by  his  warm  manner,  and  he  would  take  her  hand- 


206 


HARRY  ROMANCES. 


impressively,  and  she  would  look  up  timidly,  and,  after  his 

long  absence,  perhaps  he  would  be  permitted  to  . 

Good  heavens,  how  many  times  he  had  come  to  this  point. 


and  wondered  if  it  could  happen  so.  Well,  well;  he  had 
never  supposed  that  he  should  be  the  one  embarrassed,  and 
above  all  by  a sincere  and  cordial  welcome. 

‘‘We  heard  you  were  at  the  Sassacus  House,”  were  Iluth’s 
first  words  ; “ and  this  I suppose  is  your  friend  ? ” 

“ I beg  your  pardon,”  Philip  at  length  blundered  out,  “this 
is  Mr.  Brierly  of  whom  I have  written  you.” 

And  Ruth  welcomed  Harry  with  a friendliness  that 
Philip  thought  was  due  to  his  friend,  to  be  sure,  but  which 
seemed  to  him  too  level  with  her  reception  of  himself,  but 
which  Harry  received  as  his  due  from  the  other  sex. 

Questions  were  asked  about  the  journey  and  about  the 
West,  and  the  conversation  became  a general  one,  until  Philip 
at  length  found  himself  talking  with  the  Squire  in  relation  to 


HARRY  AMUSES  RUTH. 


2or 

land  and  railroads  and  things  lie  couldn’t  keep  his  mind  on ; 
especially  as  he  heard  Kuth  and  Harry  in  an  animated  dis- 
course, and  caught  the  words  “Hew  York,”  and  “ opera,”  and 
“ reception,”  and  knew  that  Harry  was  giving  his  imagina- 
tion full  range  in  the  world  of  fashion. 

Harry  knew  all  about  the  opera,  green  room  and  all  (at 
least  he  said  so)  and  knew  a good  many  of  the  operas  and 
could  make  very  entertaining  stories  of  their  plots,  telling  how 
the  soprano  came  in  here,  and  the  basso  here,  humming  the 
beginning  of  their  airs — tuin-ti-tum-ti-ti — suggesting  the  pro- 


PHILIP. HEARS  HARRY  ENTERTAINING  RUTH. 


found  dissatisfaction  of  the  basso  recitative — down-among- 
the-dead-men — and  touching  off  the  whole  with  an  airy  grace 
quite  captivating  ; though  he  couldn’t  have  sung  a single  air 
through  to  save  himself,  and  he  hadn’t  an  ear  to  know 
whether  it  was  sung  correctly.  All  the  same  he  doted  on 
the  opera,  and  kept  a box  there,  into  which  he  lounged  oc- 
casionally to  hear  a favorite  scene  and  meet  his  society  friends. 


208 


A LOOK  INTO  THE  FUTURE. 


If  Ruth  was  ever  in  the  city  he  should  be  happy  to  place  his 
box  at  the  disposal  of  Ruth  and  her  friends.  Needless  to 
say  that  she  was  delighted  with  the  offer. 

When  she  told  Philip  of  it,  that  discreet  young  fellow  only 
smiled,  and  said  that  he  hoped  she  would  be  fortunate 
enough  to  be  in  New  York  some  evening  when  Harry  had 
not  already  given  the  use  of  his  private  box  to  some  other 
friend. 

The  Squire  pressed  the  visitors  to  let  him  send  for  their 
trunks  and  urged  them  to  stay  at  his  house,  and  Alice  joined 
in  the  invitation,  but  Philip  had  reasons  for  declining.  They 
staid  to  supper,  however,  and  in  the  evening  Philip  had  a 
long  talk  apart  with  Ruth,  a delightful  hour  to  him,  in  which 
she  spoke  freely  of  herself  as  of  old,  of  her  studies  at  Phila- 
delphia and  of  her  plans,  and  she  entered  into  his  adventures 
and  prospects  in  the  We.:t  with  a genuine  and  almost  sisterly 
interest ; an  interest,  however,  which  did  not  exactly  satisfy 
Philip — it  was  too  general  and  not  personal  enough  to  suit 
him.  And  with  all  her  freedom  in  speaking  of  her  own  hopes, 
Philip  could  not  detect  any  reference  to  himseK  in  them ; 
whereas  he  never  undertook  anything  that  he  did  not  think 
of  Ruth  in  connection  with  it,  he  never  made  a plan  that  had 
not  reference  to  her,  and  he  never  thought  of  anything  as 
complete  if  she  could  not  share  it.  Fortune,  reputation — 
these  had  no  value  to  him  except  in  Ruth’s  eyes,  and  there 
were  times  when  it  seemed  to  him  that  if  Ruth  was  not  on 
this  earth,  he  should  plunge  off  into  some  remote  wilderness 
and  live  in  a purposeless  seclusion. 

“ 1 hoped,”  said  Philip,  “ to  get  a little  start  in  connection 
with  this  new  railroad,  and  make  a little  money,  so  that  I 
could  come  east  and  engage  in  something  more  suited  to  my 
tastes.  I shouldn’t  like  to  live  in  the  W est.  W ould  you  ? 

“ It  never  occurred  to  me  whether  I would  or  not,”  was 
the  unembarrassed  reply.  One  of  our  graduates  went  to 
Chicago,  and  has  a nice  practice  there.  I don’t  know  where  I 
shall  go.  It  would  mortify  mother  dreadfully  to  have  me 
driving  about  Philadelphia  in  a doctor’s  gig.” 


HARRY  SPREADS  HIMSELF. 


200 


Philip  laughed  at  the  idea  of  it.  And  does  it  seem  as 
necessary  to  you  to  do  it  as  it  did  before  you  came  to  Fall- 
kill?” 

It  was  a home  question,  and  went  deeper  than  Philip  knew, 
for  Ruth  at  once  thought  of  practicing  her  profession  among 
the  young  gentlemen  and  ladies  of  her  acquaintance  in  the 
village ; but  she  was  reluctant  to  admit  to  herself  that  her 
notions  of  a career  had  undergone  any  change. 

“ Oh,  I don’t  think  I should  come  to  Fallkill  to  practice, 
but  I must  do  something  when  I am  through  school ; and 
why  not  medicine  ? ” 

Philip  would  like  to  have  explained  why  not,  but  the  ex- 
planation would  be  of  no  use  if  it  were  not  already  obvious 
to  Ruth. 

Harry  was  equally  in  his  element  whether  instructing 
Squire  Montague  about  the  investment  of  capital  in  Missouri, 
the  improvement  of  Columbus  River,  the  project  he  and 
some  gentlemen  in  Hew  York  had  for  making  a shorter 
Pacific  connection  with  the  Mississippi  than  the  present  one ; 
or  diverting  Mrs.  Montague  with  his  experience  in  cooking 
in  camp ; or  drawing  for  Miss  Alice  an  amusing  picture  of 
the  social  contrasts  of  Hew 
England  and  the  border 
where  he  had  been. 

Harry  was  a very  enter- 
taining fellow,  having  his 
imagination  to  help  his 
memory,  and  telling  his 
stories  as  if  he  believed 
them — as  perhaps  he  did. 

Alice  was  greatly  amused 
with  Harry  and  listened  so 
seriously  to  his  romancing 
that  he  exceeded  his  usual  limits.  Chance  allusions  to  his  bach- 
elor establishment  in  town  and  the  place  of  his  family  on  the 


AN  ENTERTAINING  FELLOW. 


14- 


210 


HOW  TO  MAKE  A PjlEASANT  EVENING. 


Hudson,  could  not  have  been  made  by  a millionaire  more 
naturally. 

I should  think,”  queried  Alice,  “ you  would  rather  stay 
in  'New  York  than  to  try  the  rough  life  at  the  West  you  have 
been  speaking  of.” 

Oh,  adventure,”  says  Harry,  I get  tired  of  Hew  York. 
And  besides  I got  involved  in  some  operations  that  I had  to 
see  through.  Parties  in  Hew  York  only  last  week  wanted 
me  to  go  down  into  Arizona  in  a big  diamond  interest.  I 
told  them,  no,  no  speculation  for  me.  I’ve  got  my  interests 
in  Missouri ; and  I wouldn’t  leave  Philip,  as  long  as  he  stays 
there.” 

When  the  young  gentlemen  were  on  their  way  back  to  the 
hotel,  Mr.  Philip,  who  was  not  in  very  good  humor,  broke 
out, 

“ What  the  deuce,  Harry,  did  you  go  on  in  that  style  to 
the  Montagues  for  ? ” 

Go  on  ? ” cried  Harry.  Why  shouldn’t  I try  to  make 
a pleasant  evening  ? And  besides,  ain’t  I going  to  do  those 
things  ? What  difference  does  it  make  about  the  mood  and 
tense  of  a mere  verb  ? Didn’t  uncle  tell  me  only  last  Satur- 
day, that  I might  as  well  go  down  to  Arizona  and  hunt  for 
diamonds  ? A fellow  might  as  well  make  a good  impression 
as  a poor  one.” 

“Honsense.  You’ll  get  to  believing  your  own  romancing 
by  and  by.” 

‘‘Well,  you’ll  see.  When  Sellers  *and  I get  that  appro- 
priation, I’ll  show  you  an  establishment  in  town  and  another 
on  the  Hudson  and  a box  at  the  opera.” 

“ Yes,  it  will  be  like  Col.  Sellers’  plantation  at  Hawkeye. 
Did  you  ever  see  that  ? ” 

“ How,  don’t  be  cross,  Phil.  She’s  just  superb,  that  little 
woman.  You  never  told  me.” 

“ Who’s  just  superb  ? ” growled  Philip,  fancying  this  turn 
of  the  conversation  less  than  the  other. 

“ Well,  Mrs.  Montague,  if  you  must  know.”  And  Harry 


PHILIP  RECEIVES  LIGHT 


211 


stopped  to  light  a cigar,  and  then  puffed  on  in  silence. 

The  little  quarrel  didn’t  last  over  night,  for  Harry  never 
appeared  to  cherish  any  ill-will  half  a second,  and  Philip  was 
too  sensible  to  continue  a row  about  nothing;  and  he  had 
invited  Harry  to  come  with  him. 

The  young  gentlemen  stayed  in  Fallkill  a week,  and  were 
every  day  at  the  Montagues,  and  took  part  in  the  winter 
gaieties  of  the  village.  There  were  parties  here  and  there  to 
which  the  friends  of  Ruth  and  the  Montagues  were  of  course 
invited,  and  Harry  in  the  generosity  of  his  nature,  gave  in 
return  a little  supper  at  the  hotel,  very  simple  indeed,  with 
dancing  in  the  hall,  and  some  refreshments  passed  round. 
And  Philip  found  the  whole  thing  in  the  bill  when  he  came 
to  pay  it. 

Before  the  week  was  over  Philip  thought  he  had  a new 
light  on  the  character  of  Ruth.  Her  absorption  in  the 
small  gaieties  of  the  society  there  surprised  him.  He  had 
few  opportunities  for  serious  conversation  with  her.  There 
was  always  some  butterfly  or  another  flitting  about,  and  when 
Philip  showed  by  his  manner  that  he  was  not  pleased,  Ruth 
laughed  merrily  enough  and  rallied  him  on  his  soberness — she 
-declared  he  was  getting  to  be  grim  and  unsocial.  He  talked 
indeed  more  with  Alice  than  with  Ruth,  and  scarcely  con« 
cealed  from  her  the  trouble  that  was  in  his  mind.  It  needed, 
in  fact,  no  word  from  him,  for  she  saw  clearly  enough  what 
was  going  forward,  and  knew  her  sex  well  enough  to  know 
there  was  no  remedy  for  it  but  time. 

“ Ruth  is  a dear  girl,  Philip,  and  has  as  much  firmness  of 
purpose  as  ever,  but  don’t  you  see  she  has  just  discovered  that 
she  is  fond  of  society  ? Don’t  you  let  her  see  you  are  selfish 
about  it,  is  my  advice.” 

The  last  evening  they  were  to  spend  in  Fallkill,  they  were 
at  the  Montagues,  and  Philip  hoped  that  he  would  find  Ruth 
in  a different  mood.  But  she  was  never  more  gay,  and  there 
was  a spice  of  mischief  in  her  eye  and  in  her  laugh.  ‘‘  Con- 
found it,”  said  Philip  to  himself,  “ she’s  in  a perfect  twitter.” 


212 


SLIGHTLY  JEALOUS. 


He  would  have  liked  to  quarrel  with  her,  and  fling  himself 
out  of  the  house  in  tragedy  style,  going  perhaps  so  far  as  to 
blindly  wander  off  miles  into  the  country  and  bathe  his 
throbbing  brow  in  the  chilling  rain  of  the  stars,  as  people  do 
in  novels;  but  he  had  no  opportunity.  For  Ruth  was  as 
serenely  unconscious  of  mischief  as  women  can  be  at  times, 
and  fascinated  him  more  than  ever  with  her  little  demure- 
nesses and  half-confidences.  She  even  said  Thee  ” to  him 
once  in  reproach  for  a cutting  speech  he  began.  And  the 
sweet  little  word  made  his  heart  beat  like  a trip-hammer,  for 
never  in  all  her  life  had  she  said  “ thee  ” to  him  before. 

Was  she  fascinated  with  Harry’s  careless  hon  homie  and 
gay  assurance  ? Both  chatted  away  in  high  spirits,  and  made 
the  evening  whirl  along  in  the  most  mirthful  manner.  Ruth 
sang  for  Harry,  and  that  young  gentleman  turned  the  leaves 
for  her  at  the  piano,  and  put  in  a bass  note  now  and  then 
where  he  thought  it  would  tell. 

Yes,  it  was  a merry  evening,  and  Philip  was  heartily  glad 
when  it  was  over,  and  the  long  leave-taking  with  the  family 
was  through  with. 

“ Farewell  Philip.  Good  night  Mr.  Brierly,”  Ruth’s  deaf 
voice  sounded  after  them  as  they  went  down  the  walk. 

And  she  spoke  Harry’s  name  last,  thought  Philip, 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 


•*0  see  ye  not  yon  narrow  road 

So  thick  beset  wi’  thorns  and  briers  ? 

That  is  the  Path  of  Righteousness, 

Though  after  it  but  few  inquires. 

“ And  see  ye  not  yon  braid,  braid  road, 

That  lies  across  the  lily  leven  ? 

That  is  the  Path  of  Wickedness, 

Though  some  call  it  the  road  to  Heaven.” 

Thomas  the  Rhymer, 

Philip  and  Harry  reached  Xew  York  in  very  different 
states  of  mind.  Harry  was  buoyant.  He  found  a letter 
from  Col.  Sellers  urging  him  to  go  to  Washington  and  con- 
fer with  Senator  Dilworthy.  The  petition  was  in  his  hands. 
It  had  been  signed  by  everybody  of  any  importance  in  Mis- 
,souri,  and  would  be  presented  immediately. 

I should  go  on  myself,”  wrote  the  Colonel,  but  I am 
‘ engaged  in  the  invention  of  a process  for  lighting  such  a city 
as  St.  Louis  by  means  of  water;  just  attach  my  machine  to 
the  water-pipes  anywhere  and  the  decomposition  of  the  fluid 
begins,  and  you  will  have  floods  of  light  for  the  mere  cost  of 
the  machine.  I’ve  nearly  got  the  lighting  part,  but  I want 
to  attach  to  it  a heating,  cooking,  washing  and  ironing  appar- 
-atus.  It’s  going  to  be  the  great  thing,  but  we’d  better  keep 
this  appropriation  going  while  T am  perfecting  it.” 

Harry  took  letters  to  several  congressmen  from  his  uncle 
and  from  Mr.  Duff  Brown,  each  of  whom  had  an  extensive 
acquaintance  in  both  houses  where  they  were  well  known  as 
men  engaged  in  large  private  operations  for  the  public  good, 

213 


214 


HARRY  IN  WASHINGTON. 


and  men,  besides,  wlio,  in  tlie  slang  of  the  day,  understood 
the  virtues  of  “ addition,  division  and  silence.” 

Senator  Dil worthy  introduced  the  petition  into  the  Senate 
with  the  remark  that  he  knew,  personally,  the  signers  of  it, 
that  they  were  men  interested,  it  was  true,  in  the  improve- 
ment of  the  country,  but  he  believed  without  any  selfish 
motive,  and  that  so  far  as  he  knew  the  signers  were  loyal.. 
It  pleased  him  to  see  upon  the  roll  the  names  of  many  col- 
ored citizens,  and  it  must  rejoice  every  friend  of  human  it  j 
to  know  that  this  lately  emancipated  race  were  intelligently 
taking  part  in  the  development  of  the  resources  of  their 
native  land.  He  moved  the  reference  of  the  petition  to  the 
proper  committee. 

Senator  Dilworthy  introduced  his  young  friend  to  influen- 
tial members,  as  a person  who  was  very  well  informed  about 
the  Salt  Lick  Extension  of  the  Pacific,  and  was  one  of  the 
Engineers  who  had  made  a careful  survey  of  Columbus  Piver 


plans  and  to  show  the  connection  between  the  public  treas- 
ury, the  city  of  Napoleon  and  legislation  for  the  benefit  of 
the  whole  country. 


PHILIP  AT  WORK. 


215 


Harry  was  the  guest  of  Senator  Dilworthy.  There  was 
scarcely  any  good  movement  in  which  the  Senator  was  not 
interested.  His  house  was  open  to  all  the  laborers  in  the 
field  of  total  abstinence,  and  much  of  his  time  was  taken  up 
in  attending  the  meetings  of  this  cause.  He  had  a Bible  class 
in  the  Sunday  school  of  the  church  which  he  attended,  and 
he  suggested  to  Harry  that  he  might  take  a class  during  the 
time  he  remained  in  Washington  : Mr.  Washington  Hawk- 
ins had  a class.  Harry  asked  the  Senator  if  there  was  a class 
of  young  ladies  for  him  to  teach,  and  after  that  the  Senator 
did  not  press  the  subject. 

Philip,  if  the  truth  must  be  told,  was  not  well  satisfied 
with  his  western  prospects,  nor  altogether  with  the  people  he 
had  fallen  in  with.  The  railroad  contractors  held  out  large 
but  rather  indefinite  promises.  Opportunities  for  a fortune 
he  did  not  doubt  existed  in  Missouri,  but  for  himself  he  saw 


PHILIP  STUDYING. 


no  better  means  for  livelihood  than  the  mastery  of  the  profes- 
sion he  had  rather  thoughtlessly  entered  upon.  During  the 
summer  he  had  made  considerable  practical  advance  in  the 


216 


AN  ACCOMPLISHED  ENGINEER. 


science  of  engineering ; he  had  been  diligent,  and  made  himself 
to  a certain  extent  necessary  to  the  work  he  was  engaged  on. 
The  contractors  called  him  into  their  consultations  frequently, 
as  to  the  character  of  the  country  he  had  been  over,  and  the 
cost  of  constructing  the  road,  the  nature  of  the  work,  etc. 

Still  Philip  felt  that  if  he  was  going  to  make  either  repu- 
tation or  money  as  an  engineer,  he  had  a great  deal  of  hard 
study  before  him,  and  it  is  to  his  credit  that  he  did  not  shrink 
from  it.  While  Harry  was  in  W ashington  dancing  attendance 
upon  the  national  legislature  and  making  the  acquaintance  of 
the  vast  lobby  that  encircled  it,  Philip  devoted  himself  day 
and  night,  with  an  energy  and  a concentration  he  was  capable 
of,  to  the  learning  and  theory  of  his  profession,  and  to  the 
science  of  railroad  building.  He  wrote  some  papers  at  this 
time  for  the  “ Plow,  the  Loom  and  the  Anvil,”  upon  the 
strength  of  materials,  and*  especially  upon  bridge-building, 
which  attracted  considerable  attention,  and  were  copied  into 
the  English  “ Practical  Magazine.”  They  served  at  any  rate 
to  raise  Philip  in  the  opinion  of  his  friends  the  contractors, 
for  practical  men  have  a certain  superstitious  estimation  of 
ability  with  the  pen,  and  though  they  may  a little  despise  the 
talent,  they  are  quite  ready  to  make  use  of  it. 

Philip  sent  copies  of  his  performances  to  Puth’s  father  and 
to  other  gentlemen  whose  good  opinion  he  coveted,  but  he 
did  not  rest  upon  his  laurels.  Indeed,  so  diligently  had  he 
applied  himself,  that  when  it  came  time  for  him  to  return 
to  the  West,  he  felt  himself,  at  least  in  theory,  competesit  to 
take  charge  of  a division  in  the  field. 


CHAPTER  XXIY. 

Ca/rUe-teca,  lapi-Waxte  otonwe  kin  he  cajeyatapi  nawahon;  otonwe  wijic® 
l^ca  keyape  se  wacanmi. 

Toketu-kaTM.  Han,  hecetu ; takuwicawaye  wijicapi  ota  hen  tipi. 

Mahp.  Ekta  Oicim.  ya. 

The  capital  of  the  Great  Republic  was  a new  world  to 
country-bred  Washington  Hawkins.  St.  Louis  was  a 
greater  city,  but  its  floating  population  did  not  liail  from 
great  distances,  and  so  it  had  the  general  family  aspect  of  the 
permanent  population  ; but  Washington  gathered  its  people 
from  the  four  winds  of  heaven,  and  so  the  manners,  the  faces 
and  the  fashions  there,  presented  a variety  that  was  inflnite. 
Washington  had  never  been  in  ‘‘society”  in  St.  Louis,  and 
lie  knew  nothing  of  the  ways  of  its  wealthier  citizens  and 
had  never  inspected  one  of  their  dwellings.  Consequently, 
everything  in  the  nature  of  modern  fashion  and  grandeur 
was  a new  and  wonderful  revelation  to  him. 

Washington  is  an  interesting  city  to  any  of  us.  It  seems 
to  become  more  and  more  interesting  the  oftener  we  visit  it. 
Perhaps  the  reader  has  never  been  there?  Yery  well.  You 
arrive  either  at  night,  rather  too  late  to  do  anything  or  see 
anything  until  morning,  or  you  arrive  so  early  in  the  morn- 
ing that  you  consider  it  best  to  go  to  your  hotel  and  sleep  an 
hour  or  two  while  the  sun  bothers  along  over  the  Atlantic. 
You  cannot  well  arrive  at  a pleasant  intermediate  hour, 
because  the  railway  corporation  that  keeps  the  keys  of  the 
only  door  that  leads  into  the  towui  or  out  of  it  take  care  of 
that.  You  arrive  in  tolerably  good  spirits,  because  it  is  only 

217 


218 


A VISITOK  AT  WASHINGTON. 


thirty-eight  miles  from  Baltimore  to  the  capital,  and  so  you 
have  only  been  insulted  three  times  (provided  you  are  not  in 

a sleeping  car — the  aver- 
age is  higher,  there)  : once 
when  you  renewed  your 
ticket  after  stopping  over 
in  Baltimore,  once  when 
you  were  about  to  enter 
the  ladies’  car  ” without 
knowing  it  was  a lady’s 
car,  and  once*  when  you 
asked  the  conductor  at 
what  hour  you  would  reach 
Washington. 

You  are  assailed  by  a 
long  rank  of  hackinen  who 
shake  their  whips  in  your 
face  as  you  step  out  upon 
the  sidewalk ; you  enter 
what  they  regard  as  a 
‘‘  carriage,”  in  the  capital, 
and  you  w^onder  why  they  do  not  take  it  out  of  service  and 


AN  OLD  ONE. 


put  it  in  the  museum : we  have  few  enough  antiquities,  and 


KEEP  OUT  OP  HERE,  SIR  ! 


A CLIMATE  YOU’LL  LIKE. 


219 


it  is  little  to  our  credit  that  we  make  scarcely  any  effort  to 
preserve  the  few  we  have.  You  reach  your  hotel,  presently 
' — and  here  let  us  draw  the  curtain  of  charity — because  of 
course  you  have  gone  to  the  wrong  one.  You  being  a stran- 
ger, how  could  you  do  otherwise  ? There  are  a hundred  and 
eighteen  bad  hotels,  and  only  one  good  one.  The  most 
renowned  and  popular  hotel  of  them  all  is  perhaps  the  worst 
one  known  to  history. 

It  is  winter,  and  night.  When  you  arrived,  it  was  snow- 
ing. When  you  reached  the  hotel,  it  was  sleeting.  When 
you  went  to  bed,  it  was  raining.  During  the  night  it  froze 
hard,  and  the  wind  blew  some  chimneys  down.  When  you 
got  up  in  the  morning,  it  was  foggy.  When  you  finished 
your  breakfast  at  ten  o’clock  and  went  out,  the  sunshine  was 


A PROMENADE  OUTFIT. 


brilliant,  the  weather  balmy  and  delicious,  and  the  mud  and’ 
slush  deep  and  all-pervading.  You  will  like  the  climate—' 
when  you  get  used  to  it. 

You  naturally  wish  to  view  the  city;  so  you  take  an 
umbrella,  an  overcoat,  and  a fan,  and  go  forth  The  prominent 


'S20  WHY  TIH:  CAPITOL’S  FRONT  IS  IN  THE  REAR. 


features  you  soon  locate  and  get  familiar  with;  first 
you  glimpse  the  ornamental  upper  works  of  a long,  snowy 
palace  projecting  above  a grove  of  trees,  and  a tall,  graceful 
white  dome  with  a statue  on  it  surmounting  the  palace  and 
pleasantly  contrasting  with  the  back-ground  of  blue  sky. 
That  building  is  the  capitol ; gossips  will  tell  you  that  by  the 
original  estimates  it  was  to  cost  $12,000,000,  and  that  the 
government  did  come  within  $27,200,000  of  building  it  for 
that  sum. 

You  stand  at  the  back  of  the  capitol  to  treat  yourself  to  a 
view,  and  it  is  a very  noble  one.  You  understand,  the  capitol 
fS^tands  upon  the  verge  of  a high  piece  of.  table  land,  a fine 
fCommanding  position,  and  its  front  looks  out  over  this  noble 
situation  for  a city — but  it  don’t  see  it,  for  the  reason  that 
when  the  capitol  extension  was  decided  upon,  the  property 
owners  at  once  advanced  their  prices  to  such  inhuman  figures 
that  the  people  went  down  and  built  the  city  in  the  muddy 
low  marsh  behind  the  temple  of  liberty ; so  now  the  lordly 
front  of  the  building,  with  its  imposing  colonades,  its  pro- 
jecting, graceful  wdngs,  its  picturesque  gi*oups  of  statuary, 
and  its  long  terraced  ranges  of  steps,  flowing  down  in  white 
marble  waves  to  the  ground,  merely  looks  out  upon  a sorrowful 
little  desert  of  cheap  boarding  houses. 

So  you  observe,  that  you  take  your  view  from  the  back  of 
the  capitol.  And  yet  not  from  the  airy  outlooks  of  the 
dome,  by  the  way,  because  to  get  there  you  must  pass  through 
the  great  rotunda : and  to  do  that,  you  would  have  to  see  the 
marvelous  Historical  Paintings  that  hang  there,  and  the  bas- 
reliefs — and  what  have  you  done  that  you  should  suffer  thus? 
And  besides,  you  might  Lave  to  pass  through  the  old  part  of 
the  building,  and  you  could  not  help  seeing  Mr.  Lincoln,  as 
petrified  by  a young  lady  artist  for  $10,000 — and  you  might 
take  his  marble  emancipation  proclamation,  which  he  holds 
-out  in  his  hand  and  contemplates,  for  a folded  napkin ; and 
you  might  conceive  from  his  expression  and  his  attitude,  that 
he  is  finding  fault  with  the  washing.  'Which  is  not  the  case. 
Nobody  knows  what  is  the  matter  with  him ; but  everybody 
feels  for  him.  Well,  you  ought  not  to  go  into  the  dome  any 


WASHINGTON  REMEMBERED  BY  HIS  COUNTRYMEN.  221 

how,  because  it  would  be  utterly  impossible  to  go  up  there 
without  seeing  the  frescoes  in  it — and  why  should  you  be 
interested  in  the  delirium  tremens  of  art  ? 

The  capitol  is  a very  noble  and  a very  beautiful  building, 
both  within  and  without,  but  you  need  not  examine  it  now. 
Still,  if*  you  greatly  prefer  going  into  the  dome,  go.  IS'ow 
your  general  glance  gives  you  picturesque  stretches  of  gleam- 
ing water,  on  your  left,  with  a sail  here  and  there  and  a luna- 
tic asylum  on  shore ; over  beyond  the  water,  on  a distant 
elevation,  you  see  a squat  yellow  temple  which  your  eye 
dwells  upon  lovingly  through  a blur  of  unmanly  moisture, 
for  it  recals  your  lost  boyhood  and  the  Parthenons  done  in 
molasses  candy  which  made  it  blest  and  beautiful.  Still  in 
the  distance,  but  on  this  side  of  the  water  and  close  to  its 
edge,  the  Monument  to  the  Father  of  his  Country  towers  out 
of  the  mud — sacred  soil  is  the  customary  term.  It  has  the 


REARED  BY  A GRATEEUL  COUMTRV. 


aspect  of  a factory  chimney  with  the  top  broken  off.  The- 
skeleton  of  a decaying  scatfolding  lingers  about  its  summit, 
and  tradition  says  that  the  spirit  of  Washington  often  comes 


S22 


GOOD  CANAL  SITES. 


down  and  sits  on  those  rafters  to  enjoy  this  tribute  of  respect 
which  the  nation  has  reared  as  the  symbol  of  its  unappeasable 
gratitude.  The  Monument  is  to  be  finished,  some  day,  and 
at  that  time  our  Washington  will  have  risen  still  higher  in 
the  nation’s  veneration,  and  will  be  known  as  the  Great-. 
Great-Grandfather  of  his  Country.  The  memorial  Chimney 
stands  in  a quiet  pastoral  locality  that  is  full  of  reposeful 
expression.  With  a glass  you  can  see  the  cow-sheds  about  its 
base,  and  the  contented  sheep  nimbling  pebbles  in  the  desert 
solitudes  that  surround  it,  and  the  tired  pigs  dozing  in  the 
holy  calm  of  its  protecting  * shadow. 

Now  you  wrench  your  gaze  loose  and  you  look  down  in 
front  of  you  and  see  the  broad  Pennsylvania  Avenue  stretch- 
ing straight  ahead  for  a mile  or  more  till  it  brings  up  against 
the  iron  fence  in  front  of  a pillared  granite  pile,  the  Treasury 
building — an  edifice  that  w^ould  command  respect  in  any  cap- 
ital. The  stores  and  hotels  that  wall  in  this  broad  avenue 
are  mean,  and  cheap,  and  dingy,  and  are  better  left  without 
comment.  Beyond  the  Treasury  is  a fine  large  white  barn, 
with  wide  unhandsome  grounds  about  it.  The  President 
lives  there.  It  is  ugly  enough  outside,  but  that  is  nothing  to 
what  it  is  inside.  Dreariness,  flimsiness,  bad  taste  reduced  to 
mathematical  completeness  is  what  the  inside  offers  to  the 
eye,  if  it  remains  yet  what  it  always  has  been. 

The  front  and  right  hand  views  give  you  the  city  at  large. 
It  is  a wide  stretch  of  cheap  little  brick  houses,  with  here 
and  there  a noble  architectural  pile  lifting  itself  out  of  the 
midst — government  buildings,  these.  If  the  thaw  is  still 
going  on  when  you  come  down  and  go  about  town,  you  will 
wonder  at  the  short-sightedness  of  the  city  fathers,  when  you 
come  to  inspect  the  streets,  in  that  they  do  not  dilute  the 
mud  a little  more  and  use  them  for  canals. 

If  you  inquire  around  a little,  you  will  find  that  there  are 
more  boarding  houses  to  the  square  acre  in  Washington  than 
there  are  in  any  other  city  in  the  land,  perhaps.  If  you  apply 
for  a home  in  one  of  them,  it  will  seem  odd  to  you  to  have 
the  landlady  inspect  you  with  a severe  eye  and  then  ask  you 


flESULT  OF  CLAIMING  FALSE  HONORS.  223 

if  you  are  a member  of  Congress.  Perhaps,  just  as  a pleas- 
antry, you  will  say  yes.  And  then  she  will  tell  you  that  she 
is  ‘‘full.^  Then  you  show  her  her  advertisement  in  the 
morning  paper,  and  there  she  stands,  convicted  and  ashamed. 
She  will  try  to  blush,  and  it  will  be  only  polite  in  you  to  take 
the  effort  for  the  deed.  She  shows  you  her  rooms,  now,  and 
lets  you  take  one — but  she  makes  you  pay  in  advance  for  it. 
That  is  what  you  will  get  for  pretending  to  be  a member  of 
Congress.  If  you  had  been  content  to  be  merely  a private 
eitizen,  your  trunk  would  have  been  sufficient  security  for 
your  board.  If  you  are  curious  and  inquire  into  this  thing, 
the  chances  are  that  your  landlady  will  be  ill-natured  enough 
to  say  that  the  person  and  property  of  a Congressman  are 
exempt  from  arrest  or  detention,  and  that  with  the  tears  in 
her  eyes  she  has  seen  several  of  the  people’s  representatives 
walk  off  to  their  several  States  and  Territories  carrying  her 
unreceipted  board  bills  in  their  pockets  for  keepsakes.  And 
before  you  have  been  in  Washington  many  weeks  you  will 
be  mean  enough  to  believe  her,  too. 

Of  course  you  contrive  to  see  everything  and  find  out 
everything.  And  one  of  the  first  and  most  startling  things 
you  find  out  is,  that  every  individual  you  encounter  in  the 
City  of  Washington  almost  — and  certainly  every  separate 
and  distinct  individuaf  in  the  public  employment,  from  the 
highest  bureau  chief,  clear  down  to  the  maid  who  scrubs  De- 
partment halls,  the  night  w^atchmen  of  the  public  buildings 
and  the  darkey  boy  who  purifies  the  Department  spittoons — 
represents  Political  Influence.  Unless  you  can  get  the  ear  of 
a Senator,  or  a Congressman,  or  a Chief  of  a Bureau  or  De- 
partment, and  persuade  him  to  use  liis  ‘‘  influence  ” in  your 
behalf,  you  cannot  get  an  employment  of  the  most  trivial 
nature  in  Washington.  Mere  merit,  fitness  and  capability,  are 
useless  baggage  to  you  without  “ influence.”  The  population 
of  Washington  consists  pretty  much  entirely  of  government 
employes  and  the  people  who  board  them.  There  are 
thousands  of  these  employes,  and  they  have  gathered  there 
from  every  corner  of  the  Union  and  got  their  berths  through 


224 


HOW  THEY  DO  IT. 


the  intercession  (command  is  nearer  the  word)  of  the  Senators 
and  Representatives  of  their  respective  States.  It  would  be 


BENEFIT  OF  POLITICAL  INFLUENCE. 


an  odd  circumstance  to  see  a girl  get  employment  at  three  or 
four  dollars  a week  in  one  of  the  great  public  cribs  without 
any  political  grandee  to  back  her,  but  merely  because  she  was 
worthy,  and  competent,  and  a good  citizen  of  a free  country 
that  treats  all  persons  alike.”  AYashington  would  be  mildly 
thunderstruck  at  such  a thing  as  that.  If  you  are  a member 
of  Congress,  (no  olfence,)  and  one  of  your  constituents  who 
doesn’t  know  anything,  and  does  not  want  to  go  into  the 
bother  of  learning  something,  and  has  no  money,  and  no  em- 
ployment, and  can’t  earn  a living,  comes  besieging  you  for 
help,  do  you  say,  Come,  my  friend,  if  your  services  were 
valuable  you  could  get  employment  elsewhere — don’t  want  you 
here  ? ” Oh,  no.  Y ou  take  him  to  a Department  and  say, 
“ Here,  give  this  person  something  to  pass  away  the  time  at 
— and  a salary” — and  the  thing  is  done.  You  throw  him  on 
his  country.  He  is  his  country’s  child,  let  his  country 


AMONG  THE  LUMINAEIES. 


225 


support  him.  There  is  something  good  and  motherly  about 
Washington,  the  grand  old  benevolent  National  Asylum  for 
the  Helpless. 

The  wages  received  by  this  great  hive  of  employes  are 
placed  at  the  liberal  figure  meet  and  just  for  skilled  and  com- 
petent labor.  Such  of  them  as  are  immediately  employed 
about  the  two  Houses  of  Congress,  are  not  only  liberally  paid 
also,  but  are  remembered  in  the  customary  Extra  Compensa- 
tion bill  which  slides  neatly  through,  annually,  with  the  gen- 
eral grab  that  signalizes  the  last  night  of  a session,  and  thus 
twenty  per  cent,  is  added  to  their  wages,  for — for  fun,  no 
doubt. 

Washington  Hawkins’  new  life  was  an  unceasing  delight 
to  him.  Senator  Dilworthy  lived  sumptuously,  and  Wash- 
ington’s quarters  were  charming — gas ; running  water,  hot 
and  cold;  bath-room,  coal  fires,  rich  carpets,  beautiful  pic- 
tures on  the  walls;  books  on  religion,  temperance,  public 
charities  and  financial  schemes ; trim  colored  servants,  daint;y 
food — everything  a body  could  wish  for.  And  as  for  station- 
ery, there  was  no  end  to  it ; the  government  furnished  it ; 
postage  stamps  were  hot  needed — the  Senator’s  frank  could 
convey  a horse  through  the  mails,  if  necessary. 

And  then  he  saw  such  dazzling  company.  Renowned 
generals  and  admirals  who  had  seemed  but  colossal  myths* 
when  he  was  in  the  far  west,  went  in  and  out  before  him  or 
sat  at  the  Senator’s  table,  solidified  into  palpable  flesh  and 
blood ; famous  statesmen  crossed  his  path  daily ; that  once 
rare  and  awe-inspiring  being,  a Congressman,  was  become  a 
common  spectacle  — a spectacle  so  common,  indeed,  that  he 
could  contemplate  it  without  excitement,  even  without  em- 
barrassment ; foreign  ministers  were  visible  to  the  naked  eye 
at  happy  intervals ; he  had  looked  upon  the  President  him- 
self, and  lived.  And  more,  this  world  of  enchantment  teemed 
with  speculation — the  whole  atmosphere  was  thick  with  it — 
and  that  indeed  was  W ashington  Hawkins’  native  air ; none 
other  refreshed  his  lungs  so  gratefully.  He  had  found  para- 
dise at  last. 

The  more  he  saw  of  his  chief  the  Senator,  the  more  he 
15> 


226  PROGRESS  MADE  WITH  THE  APPROPRIATION  BILL. 

honored  him,  and  the  more  conspicuously  the  moral  gran- 
deur of  his  character  appeared  to  stand  out.  To  possess  the 
friendship  and  the  kindly  interest  of  such  a man,  Washing- 
ton said  in  a letter  to  Louise,  was  a happy  fortune  for  a young 
man  whose  career  had  been  so  impeded  and  so  clouded  as  his. 

The  weeks  drifted  by ; Harry  Brierly  flirted,  danced,  added 
lustre  to  the  brilliant  Senatorial  receptions,  and  diligently 
‘‘buzzed”  and  “button-holed”  Congressmen  in  the  interest 
of  the  Columbus  River  scheme ; meantime  Senator  Dilwor- 
thy  labored  hard  in  the  same  interest — and  in  others  of  equal 
national  importance.  Harry  wrote  frequently  to  Sellers,  and 
always  encouragingly  ; and  from  these  letters  it  was  easy  to 
see  that  Harry  was  a pet  with  all  Washington,  and  was  likely 
to  carry  the  thing  through ; that  the  assistance  rendered  him 
by  “ old  Dilworthy  ” was  pretty  fair — pretty  fair ; and 
every  little  helps,  you  know,”  said  Harry. 

Washington  wrote  Sellers  officially,  now  and  then.  In  one 
of  his  letters  it  appeared  that  whereas  no  member  of  the 
House  committee  favored  the  scheme  at  first,  there  was  now 
needed  but  one  more  vote  to  compass  a majority  report. 
Closing  sentence : 

“Providence  seems  to  further  our  efforts.”  . 

(Signed,)  “Abner  Dilworthy,  U.  S.  S., 

per  Washington  Hawkins,  P.  S.” 

At  the  end  of  a week,  Washington  was  able  to  send 
the  happy  news, — officially,  as  usual, — that  the  needed 
vote  had  been  added  and  the  bill  favorably  reported  from  the 
Committee.  Other  letters  recorded  its  perils  in  Committee 
of  the  whole,  and  by  and  by  its  victory,  by  just  the  skin  of  its 
teeth,  on  third  reading  and  final  passage.  Then  came  letters 
telling  of  Mr.  Dilworthy’s  struggles  wdth  a stubborn  major- 
ity in  his  own  Committee  in  the  Senate ; of  how  these  gen- 
tlemen succumbed,  one  by  one,  till  a majority  was  secured. 

Then  there  was  a hiatus.  Washington  watched  every 
move  on  the  board,  and  he  was  in  a good  position  to  do  this, 
for  he  was,  clerk  of  this  committee,  and  also  one  other.  He 
received  no  salary  as  private  secretary,  but  these  two  clerk- 
ships, procured  by  his  benefactor,  paid  him  an  aggre- 


PASSED.  THANKS  TO 

gate  of  twelve  dollars  a day,  without  counting 
cent,  extra  compensation  which  would  of  course 
him  on  the  last  night  of  the  session. 

He  saw  the  bill  go  into  Committee  of  the  whole  and 
gle  for  its  life  again,  and  finally  worry  through.  In  the 
ness  of  time  he  noted  its  second  reading,  and  by  and  by  the 
day  arrived  when  the  grand  ordeal  came,  and  it  was  put  upon 
its  final  passage.  W ashington  listened  with  bated  breath  to 
the  Aye  ! ” Ho ! ” Ho ! ” Aye ! ” of  the  voters,  for 
a few  dread  minutes,  and  then  could  bear  the'  suspense  no 
longer.  He  ran  down  from  the  gallery  and  hurried  home  to 
wait. 

At  the  end  of  two  or  three  hours  the  Senator  arrived  in  the 
bosom  of  his  family,  and  dinner  was  waiting.  Washington 
sprang  forward,  with  the  eager  question  on  his  lips,  and  the 
Senator  said : 

“We  may  rejoice  freely,  now,  my  son — Providence  haa 
crowned  our  efforts  with  success.” 


1 


CHAPTEH  XX Y. 


J^TT? -<!< 


ASHIXGTOX  sent  grand  good  news  to  Col.  Sellers 
that  night.  To  Louise  he  wrote  : 


“It  is  beautiful  to  hear  him  talk  when  his  heart  is  full  of 
thankfulness  for  some  manifestation  of  the  Divine  favor. 
You  shall  know  him,  some  day  my  Louise,  and  knowing  him 
you  will  honor  him,  as  I do.” 

Harry  wrote : 

“ I pulled  it  through.  Colonel,  but  it  was  a tough  job, 
there  is  no  question  about  that.  There  was  not  a friend  to 
the  measure  in  the  House  committee  when  I began,  and  not 
a friend  in  the  Senate  committee  except  old  Dil  himself,  but 
they  were  all  fixed  for  a majority  report  when  I hauled  off 
my  forces.  Everybody  here  says  you  carCt  get  a thing  like 
this  through  Congress  without  buying  committees  for  straight- 
out  cash  on  delivery,  but  I think  I’ve  taught  them  a thing  or 
two — if  I could  only  make  them  believe  it.  When  I tell  the 
old  residenters  that  this  thing  went  through  without  buying 
a vote  or  making  a promise,  they  say,  ‘ That’s  rather  too 
thin.’  And  when  I say  thin  or  not  thin  it’s  a fact,  anyway, 
they  say  " Come,  now,  but  do  you  really  believe  that  V and 
when  I say  I don’t  believe  anything  about  it,  I know  it,  they 
smile  and  say,  ‘ Well,  you  are  pretty  innocent,  or  pretty  blind, 
one  or  the  other — there’s  no  getting  around  that.  ’ Why 

22^8 


GLOIUOUS  NEWS  ALL  ’ROUND. 


229 


they  really  do  believe  that  votes  time  been  bought — they  do 
indeed.  But  let  them  keep  on  thinking  so.  I have  found 
out  that  if  a man  knows  how  to  talk  to  women,  and  has  a lit- 
tle gift  in  the  way  of  argument  with  men,  he  can  afford  to 
play  for  an  appropriation  against  a money  bag  and  give  the 
money  bag  odds  in  the  game.  We’ve  raked  in  $200,000  of 
Uncle  Sam’s  money,  say  what  they  will — and  there  is  more 
where  this  came  from,  when  we  want  it,  and  I rather  fancy  I 
.am  the  person  that  can  go  in  and  occupy  it,  too,  if  I do  say 
it  myself,  that  shouldn’t,  perhaps.  I’ll  be  with  you  within  a 
week.  Scare  up  all  the  men  you  can,  and  put  them  to  work 
At  once.  When  I get  there  I propose  to  make  things  hum.” 

The  great  news  lifted  Sellers  into  the  clouds.  He  went  to 
work  on  the  instant.  He  flew  hither  and  thither  making 
(Contracts,  engaging  men,  and  steeping  his  soul  in  the  ecstasies 
of  business.  He  w’as  the  happiest  man  in  Missouri.  And 
Louise  was  the  happiest  woman  ; for  presently  came  a letter 
from  Washington  which  said: 

“ Rejoice  with  me,  for  the  long  agony  is  over  ! We  have 
waited  patiently  and  faithfully,  all  these  years,  and  now  at 
last  the  reward  is  at  hand.  A man  is  to  pay  our  family  $40,- 
€00  for  the  Tennessee  Laud ! It  is  but  a little  sum  compared 


VISIONS  OF  A HAPPY  MAN. 


to  what  we  could  get  by  waiting,  but  I do  so  long  to  see  the 
day  when  I can  call  you  my  own,  that  I have  said  to  myself, 
better  take  this  and  enjov  life  in  a humble  way  than  wear  out 


230 


THE  WHEELS  SET  IN  MOTION. 


our  best  days  in  this  miserable  separation.  Besides,  I cacr 
put  this  money  into  operations  here  that  will  increase  it  a 
hundred  fold,  yes,,  a thousand  fold,  in  a few  months.  The 
air  is  full  of  such  chances,  and  I know  our  family  would  con- 
sent in  a moment  that  1 should  put  in  their  shares  with  mine. 
Without  a doubt  we  shall  be  worth  half  a million  dollars  in  a 
year  from  this  time — I put  it  at  the  very  lowest  figure^ 
because  it  is  always  best  to  be  on  the  safe  side — half  a million 
at  the  very  lowest  calculation,  and  then  your  father  will  give 
his  consent  and  we  can  marry  at  last.  Oh,  that  will  be  a 
glorious  day.  Tell  our  friends  the  good  news — I want  all  tO' 
share  it.” 

And  she  did  tell  her  father  and  mother,  but  they  said,  let 
it  be  kept  still  for  the  present.  The  careful  father  also  told 
her  to  write  Washington  and  warn  him  not  to  speculate  with 
the  money,  but  to  wait  a little  and  advise  with  one  or  twa 
wise  old  heads.  She  did  this.  And  she  managed  to  keep 
the  good  news  to  herself,  though  it  would  seem  that  the  most 
careless  observer  might  have  seen  by  her  springing  step  and 
her  radiant  countenance  that  some  fine  piece  of  good  fortune 
had  descended  upon  her. 

Harry  joined  the  Colonel  at  Stone’s  Landing,  and  that 
dead  place  sprang  into  sudden  life.  A swarm  of  men  wer& 
hard  at  work,  and  the  dull  air  was  filled  wifeh  the  cheery 
music  of  labor.  Harry  had  been  constituted  engineer-in-gen~ 
eral,  and  he  threw  the  full  strength  of  his  powers  into  his 
work.  He  moved  among  his  hirelings  like  a king.  Author- 
ity seemed  to  invest  him  with  a new  splendor.  Col.  Sellers, 
as  general  superintendent  of  a great  public  enterprise,  was  all 
that  a mere  human  being  could  be — and  more.  These  two 
grandees  went  at  their  imposing  ‘‘  improvement  ” with  the 
air  of  men  who  had  been  charged  with  the  work  of  altering 
the  foundations  of  the  globe. 

They  turned  their  first  attention  to  straightening  the  river 
just  above  the  Landing,  where  it  made  a deep  bend,  and 
where  the  maps  and  plans  showed  that  the  process  of  straight* 
ening  would  not  only  shorten  distance  but  increase  the  ‘‘falL’^ 
They  started  a cut-off  canal  across  the  peninsula  formed  by 


NAPOLEON  STOCK  UP,  EVERYTHING  “BOOMING.”  231 


the  bend,  and  such  another  tearing  up  of  the  earth  and  slop- 
ping around  in  the  mud  as  followed  the  order  to  the  men, 
had  never  been  seen  in  that  region  before.  There  was  such 
a panic  among  the  turtles  that  at  the  end  of  six  hours  there 
was  not  one  to  be  found  within  three  miles  of  Stone’s  Land- 
ing. They  took  the  young  and  the  aged,  the  decrepit  and 
the  sick  upon  their  backs  and  left  for  tide-water  in  disorderly 


EXODUS  OF  THE  NATIVES. 


procession,  the  tadpoles  following  and  the  bull-frogs  bringing 
up  the  rear. 

Saturday  night  came,  but  the  men  were  obliged  to  wait, 
because  the  appropriation  had  not  come.  Harry  said  he  had 
written  to  hurry  up  the  money  ’and  it  would  be  along  pres- 
ently. So  the  work  continued,  on  Monday.  Stone’s  Land- 
ing was  making  quite  a stir  in  the  vicinity,  by  this  time. 
Sellers  threw  a lot  or  two  on  the  market,  as  a feeler,”  and 
they  sold  well.  He  re-clothed  his  family,  laid  in  a good 
stock  of  provisions,  and  still  had  money  left.  He  started  a 
bank  account,  in  a small  way — and  mentioned  the  deposit 
casually  to  friends ; and  to  strangers,  too  ; to  everybody,  in 
fact ; but  not  as  a new  thing — on  the  cotitrary,  as  a matter  of 
life-long  standing.  He  could  not  keep  from  buying  trifles 
every  day  that  were  not  wholly  necessary,  it  was  such  a 
gaudy  thing  to  get  out  his  bank-book  and  draw  a check, 


232 


TROUBLE  IN  THE  MONEY  MARKET. 


instead  of  using  his  old  customary  formula,  “ Charge  it.’^ 
Harry  sold  a lot  or  two,  also — and  had  a dinner  party  or  two 
at  Hawkeye  and  a general  good  time  with  the  money.  Both 
men  held  on  pretty  strenuously  for  the  coming  big  prices, 
however. 

At  the  end  of  a month  things  were  looking  bad.  Harry 
had  besieged  the  New  York  headquarters  of  the  Columbus 
River  Slack-water  Navigation  Company  with  demands,  then 
commands,  and  finally  appeals,  but  to  no  purpose ; the  appro- 
priation did  not  come ; the  letters  were  not  even  answered. 
The  workmen  were  clamorous,  now.  The  Colonel  and  Harry 
retired  to  consult. 

“ What’s  to  be  done  ? ” said  the  Colonel. 

“ Hang’d  if  I know.” 

“ Company  say  anything  ? ” 

‘‘Not  a word.” 

“You  telegraphed  yesterday?” 

“Yes,  and  the  day  before,  too.” 

“ No  answer? ” 

“None — confound  them!” 

Then  there  was  a long  pause.  Finally  both  spoke  at  once : 

“I’ve  got  it ! ” 

“/’ve  got  it ! ” 

“ What’s  yours  ? ”■  said  Harry. 

“ Give  the  boys  thirty -day  orders  on  the  Company  for  the 
back  pay.” 

“ That’s  it — that’s  my  own  idea  to  a dot.  But  then — but 
then ” 

“ Yes,  I know,”  said  the  Colonel;  “ I know  they  can’t  wait 
for  the  orders  to  go  to  New  York  and  be  cashed,  but  what’s 
the  reason  they  can’t  get  them  discounted  in  Hawkeye  ? ” 

“ Of  course  they  can.  That  solves  the  difficulty.  Every- 
body knows  the  appropriation’s  been  made  and  the  Compa- 
ny’s perfectly  good.” 

So  the  orders  were  given  and  the  men  appeased,  though 
they  grumbled  a little  at  first.  The  orders  went  well  enough 


^ ■ ■ 

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. . JV  v:v. 

. . 

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usmY  / 

OF  THE 


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M-t-y,.. 


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jMt 


HAKlir  BUIERLY  FLIES  FROM  THE  MOB 


FINANCIERING  AND  ITS  RESULT. 


233 


for  groceries  and  such  things  at  a fair  discount,  and  the  work 
danced  along  gaily  for  a time.  Two  or  three  purchasers  put 
up  frame  houses  at  the  Landing  and  moved  in,  and  of  course 
a far-sighted  but  easy-going  journeyman  printer  wandered 
along  and  started  the  “Napoleon  Weekly  Telegraph  and 
Literary  Repository” — a paper  with  a Latin  motto  from 
the  Unabridged  dictionary,  and  plenty  of  “fat”  conversa- 
tional tales  and  double-leaded  poetry — all  for  two  dollars  a 
year,  strictly  in  advance.  Of  course  the  merchants  forwarded 
the  orders  at  once  to  New  York — and  never  heard  of  them 
again. 

At  the  end  of  some  weeks  Harry’s  orders  were  a drug  in 
the  market — nobody  would  take  them  at  any  discount  what- 
ever. The  second  month  closed  with  a riot. — Sellers  was 
absent  at  the  time,  and  Harry  began  an  active  absence  him^ 
self  with  the  mob  at  his  heels.  But  being  on  horseback,  he 
had  the  advantage.  He  did  not  tarry  in  Hawkeye,  but  went 
on,  thus  missing  several  appointments  with  creditors.  He  was 
far  on  his  flight  eastward,  and  well  out  of  danger  when  the 
next  morning  dawned.  He  telegraphed  the  Colonel  to  go 
down  and  quiet  the  laborers — he  was  hound  east  for  money 
— everything  would  be  right  in  a week — tell  the  men  so — tell 
them  to  rely  on  him  and  not  be  afraid. 

Sellers  found  the  mob  quiet  enough  when  he  reached  the 
Landing.  They  had  gutted  the  Navigation  office,  then  piled 
the  beautiful  engraved  stock-books  and  things  in  the  middle 
of  the  floor  and  enjoyed  the  bonfire  while  it  lasted.  They 
had  a liking  for  the  Colonel,  but  still  they  held  some  idea  of 
hanging  him,  as  a sort  of  make-shift  that  might  answer,  after 
a fashion,  in  place  of  more  satisfactory  game. 

But  they  made  the  mistake  of  waiting  to  hear  what  he  had 
to  say  first.  Within  fifteen  minutes  his  tongue  had  done  its 
work  and  they  were  all  rich  men. — He  gave  every  one  of 
them  'a  lot  in  the  suburbs  of  the  city  of  Stone’s  Landing, 
within  a mile  and  a half  of  the  future  post  -office  and  railway 
station,  and  they  promised  to  resume  work  as  soon  as  Harry 
got  east  and  started  the  money  along.  Now  things  were 


234: 


GENERAL  COLLAPSE. 


blooming  and  pleasant  again,  but  the  men  had  no  money,  and 
nothing  to  live  on.  The  Colonel  divided  with  them  the 
money  he  still  had  in  bank — an  act  which  had  nothing 


ENJOYING  THE  BONFIRE. 


surprising  about  it  because  he  was  generally  ready  to  divide 
whatever  he  had  with  anybody  that  wanted  it,  and  it  was 
owing  to  this  very  trait  that  his  family  spent  their  days  in 
poverty  and  at  times  were  pinched  with  famine. 

When  the  men’s  minds  had  cooled  and  Sellers  was  gone, 
they  hated  themselves  for  letting  him  beguile  them  with  fine 
speeches,  but  it  was  too  late,  now — they  agreed  to  hang  him 
another  time — such  time  as  Providence  should  appoint. 


CHAPTER  XXYI. 

uemih  <oTLD^^  ^ifl^fTuj 

Rumors  of  Ruth’s  frivolity  and  worldliness  at  Fallkill 
traveled  to  Philadelphia  in  due  time,  and  occasioned  no 
little  undertalk  among  the  Bolton  relatives. 

Hannah  Shoecraft  told  another  cousin  that,  for  her  part, 
she  never  believed  that  Ruth  had  so  much  more  “mind” 
than  other  people  ; and  Cousin  Hulda  added  that  she  always 
thought  Ruth  was  fond  of  admiration,  and  that  was  the  reason 
she  was  unwilling  to  wear  plain  clothes  and  attend  Meeting. 
The  story  that  Ruth  was  “ engaged  ” to  a young  gentleman 
of  fortune  in  Fallkill  came  with  the  other  news,  and  helped 
to  give  point  to  the  little  satirical  remarks  that  went  round 
about  Ruth’s  desire  to  be  a doctor ! 

Margaret  Bolton  was  too  wise  to  be  either  surprised  or 
alarmed  by  these  rumors.  They  might  be  true ; she  knew  a 
woman’s  nature  too  well  to  think  them  improbable,  bnt  she 
also  knew  how  steadfast  Ruth  was  in  her  purposes,  and  that, 
as  a brook  breaks  into  ripples  and  eddies  and  dances  and 
sports  by  the  way,  and  yet  keeps  on  to  the  sea,  it  was  in 
Ruth’s  nature  to  give  back  cheerful  answer  to  the  solicita- 
tions of  friendliness  and  pleasure,  to  appear  idly  delaying 
even,  and  sporting  in  the  sunshine,  while  the  current  of  her 
resolution  flowed  steadily  on. 

That  Ruth  had  this  delight  in  the  mere  surface  play  of  life  j 

235 


^36 


RUTH  AT  HOME  AGAIN. 


— ^that  she  could,  for  instance,  be  interested  in  that  somewhat 
serious  bj-play  called  ‘‘flirtation,”  or  take  any  delight  in  the 
exercise  of  those  little  arts  of  pleasing  and  winning  which 
.are  none  the  less  genuine  and  charming  because  they  are  not 
intellectual,  Ruth,  herself,  had  never  suspected  until  she  went 
to  Fallkill.  She  had  believed  it  her  duty  to  subdue  her 
•gaiety  of  temperament,  and  let  nothing  divert  her  from  what 
•are  called  serious  pursuits.  In  her  limited  experience  she 
brought  everything  to  the  judgment  of  her  own  conscience, 
.and  settled  the  affairs  of  all  the  world  in  her  own  serene 
judgment  hall.  Perhaps  her  mother  saw  this,  and  saw  also 
That  there  was  nothing  in  the  Friends’  society  to  prevent  her 
from  growing  more  and  more  opinionated. 

When  Ruth  returned  to  Philadelphia,  it  must  be  confessed 
• — though  it  would  not  have  been  by  her — that  a medical 
career  did  seem  a little  less  necessary  for  her  than  formerly ; 
and  coming  back  in  a glow  of  triumph,  as  it  were,  and  in  the 
•consciousness  of  the  freedo^  and  life  in  a lively  society  and 
in  new  and  sympathetic  friendship,  she  anticipated  pleasure 
in  an  attempt  to  break  up  the  stiflhess  and  levelness  of  the 
society  at  home,  and  infusing  into  it  something  of  the  motion 
and  sparkle  which  were  so  agreeable  at  Fallkill.  She  expect- 
ed visits  from  her  new  friends,  she  would  have  company,  the 
new  books  and  the  periodicals  about  which  all  the  world  was 
talking,  and,  in  short,  she  would  have  life. 

For  a little  while  she  lived  in  this  atmosphere  which  she  had 
hrought  with  her.  Her  mother  w^as  delighted  with  this 
change  in  her,  with  the  improvement  in  her  health  and  the 
interest  she  exhibited  in  home  affairs.  Her  father  enjoyed 
the  society  of  his  favorite  daughter  as  he  did  few  things  be- 
sides; he  liked  her  mirthful  and  teasing  ways,  and  not  less  a 
keen  battle  over  something  she  had  read.  He  had  been  a 
great  reader  all  his  life,  and  a remarkable  memory  had  stored 
his  mind  with  encyclopaedic  information.  It  was  one  of  Ruth’s 
delights  to  cram  herself  with  some  out  of  the  way  subject 
and  endeavor  to  catch  her  father;  but  she  almost  always 
failed-  Mr.  Bolton  liked  company,  a house  full  of  it,  and 


LEADING  QUESTIONS  BY  RUTH’S  MOTHER.  23T 

the  mirth  of  young  people,  and  he  would  have  willingly 
entered  into  any  revolutionary  plans  Ruth  might  have  sug- 
gested in  relation  to  Friends’  society. 

But  custom  and  the  fixed  order  are  stronger  than  the  most 
enthusiastic  and  rebellious  young  lady,  as  Ruth  very  soon 
found.  In  spite  of  all  her  brave  efforts,  her  frequent  corres- 
pondence, and  her  determined  animation,  her  books  and  her 
music,  she  found  herself  settling  into  the  clutches  of  the  old 
monotony,  and  as  she  realized  the  hopelessness  of  her  endeav- 
ors, the  medical  scheme  took  new  hold  of  her,  and  seemed 
to  her  the  only  method  of  escape. 

“ Mother,  thee  does  not  know  how  different  it  is  in  FaUkill, 
how  much  more  interesting  the  people  are  one  meets,  how 
much  more  life  there  is.” 

“ But  thee  will  find  the  world,  child,  pretty  much  all  the 
same,  when  thee  knows  it  better.  I thought  once  as  thee 
does  now,  and  had  as  little  thought  of  being  a Friend  as  thee 
has.  Perhaps  when  thee  has  seen  more,  thee  will  better  ap- 
preciate a quiet  life.” 

Thee  married  young.  I shall  not  marry  young,  and  per- 
haps not  at  all,”  said  Ruth,  with  a look  of  vast  experience. 

Perhaps  thee  doesn’t  know  thee  own  mind  ; I have  known 
persons  of  thy  age  who  did  not.  Did  thee  see  anybody  whom 
thee  would  like  to  live  with  always  in  Fallkill?  ” 

“ Not  always,”  replied  Ruth  with  a little  laugh.  Mother, 
I think  I wouldn’t  say  ‘ always  ’ to  any  one  until  I have  a 
profession  and  am  as  independent  as  he  is.  Then  my  love 
would  be  a free  act,  and  not  in  any  way  a necessity.” 

Margaret  Bolton  smiled  at  this  new-fangled  philosophy. 
“ Thee  will  find  that  love,  Ruth,  is  a thing  thee  won’t  reason 
about,  when  it  comes,  nor  make  any  bargains  about.  Thee 
wrote  that  Philip  Sterling  was  at  Fallkill.” 

“ Yes,  and  Flenry  Brierly,  a friend  of  his;  a very  amusing 
young  fellow  and  not  so  serious-minded  as  Philip,  but  a bit 
of  a fop  maybe.” 

“ And  thee  preferred  the  fop  to  the  serious-minded  % ” 


S38 


ANOTIIEK  SPECULATION. 


‘‘I  didn’t  prefer  anybody,  but  Henry  Brierly  was  good 
company,  which  Philip  wasn’t  always.” 

Did  thee  know  thee  father  had  been  in  correspondence 
with  Philip  ? ” 

Ruth  looked  up  surprised  and  with  a plain  question  in  her 
'eyes. 

Oh,  it’s  not  about  thee.” 

What  then  ? ” and  if  there  was  any  shade  of  disappoint- 
ment in  her  tone,  probably  Ruth  herself  did  not  know  it. 

“ It’s  about  some  land  up  in  the  country.  That  man  Bigler 
has  got  father  into  another  speculation.” 

That  odious  man  ! Why  will  father  have  any  thing  to  do 
with  him  ? Is  it  that  railroad  ? ” 

“Yes.  Father  advanced  money  and  took  land  as  security, 
and  whatever  has  gone  with  the  money  and  the  bonds,  he 
has  on  his  hands  a large  tract  of  wild  land.” 

“ And  what  has  Philip  to  do  with  that  ? ” 

“ It  has  good  timber,  if  it  could  ever  be  got  out,  and  father 
says  that  there  must  be  coal  in  it ; it’s  in  a coal  region.  He 
wants  Philip  to  survey  it,  and  examine  it  for  indications  of 
coal.” 

“ It’s  another  of  father’s  fortunes,  I suppose,”  said  Ruth. 

He  has  put  away  so  many  fortunes  for  us  that  I’m  afraid 
we  never  shall  find  them.” 

Ruth  was  interested  in  it  nevertheless,  and  perhaps  mainly 
because  Philip  was  to  be  connected  with  the  enterprise.  Mr. 
Bigler  came  to  dinner  with  her  father  next  day,  and  talked  a 
great  deal  about  Mr.  Bolton’s  magnificent  tract  of  land, 
extolled  the  sagacity  that  led  him  to  secure  such  a property, 
and  led  the  talk  along  to  another  railroad  which  would  open 
a northern  communication  to  this  very  land. 

“ Pennybacker  says  it’s  full  of  coal,  he’s  no  doubt  of  it, 
and  a railroad  to  strike  the  Erie  would  make  it  a fortune.” 

“ Suppose  you  take  the  land  and  work  the  thing  up,  Mr, 
Bigler;  you  may  have  the  tract  for  three  dollars  an  acre.” 

“You’d  throw  it  away,  then,”  replied  Mr.  Bigler,  “and 
I’m  not  the  man  to  take  advantage  of  a friend.  But  if 


A LETTER  FROM  PHILIP. 


239 


you’ll  put  a mortgage  on  it  for  the  northern  road,  I wouldn’t 
mind  taking  an  interest,  if  Pennybacker  is  willing;  but  Pen- 
nybacker,  you  know,  don’t  go  much  on  land,  he  sticks  to  the 
legislature.”  And  Mr.  Bigler  laughed. 

When  Mr.  Bigler  had  gone,  Ruth  asked  her  father  about 
Philip’s  connection  with  the  land  scheme. 

There’s  nothing  definite,”  said  Mr.  Bolton.  Philip  is 
showing  aptitude  for  his  profession.  I hear  the  best  reports 
of  him  in  New  York,  though  those  sharpers  don’t  intend  to 
do  anything  but  use  him.  I’ve  written  and  offered  him 
employment  in  surveying  and  examining  the  land.  We 
want  to  know  what  it  is.  And  if  there  is  anything  in  it  that 
his  enterprise  can  dig  out,  he  shall  have  an  interest.  I 
should  be  glad  to  give  the  young  fellow  a lift.” 

All  his  life  Eli  Bolton  had  been  giving  young  fellows  a 
lift,  and  shouldering  the  losses  when  things  turned  out  unfor- 
tunately. His  ledger,  take  it  altogether,  would  not  show  a 
balance  on  the  right  side;  but  perhaps  the  losses  on  his  books 
will  turn  out  to  be  credits  in  a world  where  accounts  are  kept 
on  a different  basis.  The  left  hand  of  the  ledger  will  appear 
the  right,  looked  at  from  the  other  side. 

Philip  wrote  to  Ruth  rather  a comical  account  of  the 
bursting  up  of  the  city  of  Napoleon  and  the  navigation 
improvement  scheme,  of  Harry’s  flight  and  the  Colonel’s  dis- 
comfiture. Harry  left  in  such  a hurry  that  he  hadn’t  even 
time  to  bid  Miss  Laura  Hawkins  good-bye,  but  he  had  no  doubt 
that  Harry  would  console  himself  with  the  next  pretty  face  he 
saw — a remark  wdiich  was  thrown  in  for  Ruth’s  benefit.  Col. 
Sellers  had  in  all  probability,  by  this  time,  some  other  equally 
brilliant  speculation  in  his  brain. 

As  to  the  railroad,  Philip  had  made  up  his  mind  that  it  was 
merely  kept  on  foot  for  speculative  purposes  in  Wall  street, 
and  he  was  about  to  quit  it.  Would  Ruth  be  glad  to  hear, 
he  wondered,  that  he  was  coming  East  ? For  he  was  coming, 
in  spite  of  a letter  from  Harry  in  New  York,  advising  him  to 
hold  on  until  he  had  made  some  arrangements  in  regard  to 


240 


QUEER  PEOPLE. 


contracts,  he  to  be  a little  careful  about  Sellers,  who  was 
somewhat  visionary,  Harry  said. 

The  summer  went  on  without  much  excitement  for  Ruth. 
She  kept  up  a correspondence  with  Alice,  who  promised  a 
visit  in  the  fall,  she  read,  she  earnestly  tried  to  interest  her- 
self in  home  affairs  and  such  people  as  came  to  the  house ; 
but  she  found  herself  falling  more  and  more  into  reveries,  and 
growing  weary  of  things  as  they  were.  She  felt  that  every- 
body might  become  in  time  like  two  relatives  from  a Shaker 
establishment  in  Ohio,  who  visited  the  Boltons  about  this 
time,  a father  and  son,  clad  exactly  alike,  and  alike  in  man- 


“ BROTHER  PLUM.” 

ners.  The  son,  however,  who  was  not  of  age,  was  more 
unworldly  and  sanctimonious  than  his  father;  he  always 
addressed  his  parent  as  “ Brother  Plum,”  and  bore  himself 


'v 


-yviv  - 


-LIBRARY  ' ' ■ 
OF  THE  ■ 

!?’Hy£RSfrY  OF  'llaNQI 


S/V  r.- 


RUi'H  AT  HOME. 


A PICTURE. 


241 


altogether  in  such  a superior  manner  that  Ruth  longed  to  put 
bent  pins  in  his  chair.  Both  father  and  son  wore  the  long,  sin- 
gle breasted  collarless  coats  of  their  society,  without  buttons, 
before  or  behind,  but  with  a row  of  hooks  and  eyes  on  either 
side  in  front.  It  was  Ruth’s  suggestion  that  the  coats  would 
be  improved  by  a single  hook  and  eye  sewed  on  in  the  small 
of  the  back  where  the  buttons  usually  are. 

Amusing  as  this  Shaker  caricature  of  the  Friends  was,  it 
oppressed  Ruth  beyond  measure,  and  increased  her  feeling  of 
being  stifled. 

It  was  a most  unreasonable  feeling.  Ho  home  could  be 
pleasanter  than  Ruth’s.  The  house,  a little  out  of  the  city, 
was  one  of  those  elegant  country  residences  which  so  much 
charm  visitors  to  the  suburbs  of  Philadelphia.  A modern  dwel- 
ling and  luxurious  in  everything  that  wealth  could  suggest  for 
comfort,  it  stood  in  the  midst  of  exquisitely  kept  lawns,  with 
groups  of  trees,  parterres  of  flowers  massed  in  colors,  with 
greenhouse,  grapery  and  garden  ; and  on  one  side,  the  garden 
sloped  away  in  undulations  to  a shallow  brook  that  ran  over 
a pebbly  bottom  and  sang  under  forest  trees.  The  country 
about  was  the  perfection  of  cultivated  landscape,  dotted  with 
cottages,  and  stately  mansions  of  Revolutionary  date,  and 
sweet  as  an  English  country-side,  whether  seen  in  the  soft 
bloom  of  May  or  in  the  mellow  ripeness  of  late  October. 

It  needed  only  the  peace  of  the  mind  within,  to  make  it  a 
paradise.  One  riding  by  on  the  Old  Germantown  road,  and 
seeing  a young  girl  swinging  in  the  hammock  on  the  piazza  and 
intent  upon  some  volume  of  old  poetry  or  the  latest  novel, 
would  no  doubt  have  envied  a life  so  idyllic.  He  could  not 
have  imagined  that  the  young  girl  was  reading  a volume  of 
reports  of  clinics  and  longing  to  be  elsewhere. 

Ruth  could  not  have  been  more  discontented  if  all  the 
wealth  about  her  had  been  as  unsubstantial  as  a dream.  Per- 
haps she  so  thought  it. 

I feel,”  she  once  said  to  her  father,  “ as  if  I were  living 
in  a house  of  cards.” 

“ And  thee  would  like  to  turn  it  into  a hospital  ? ” 

16- 


24:2 


DANGERS  AND  CONTINGENCES. 


“ No.  But  tell  me  father,”  continued  Kuth,  not  to  be  put 
off,  is  thee  still  going  on  with  that  Bigler  and  those  other 
men  who  come  here  and  entice  thee?” 

Mr.  Bolton  smiled,  as  men  do  when  they  talk  with  women 
about  ‘‘  business.  ” Such  men  have  their  uses,  Ruth.  They 
keep  the  world  active,  and  I owe  a great  many  of  my  best 
operations  to  such  men.  Who  knows,  Ruth,  but  this  new  land 
purchase,  which  I confess  I yielded  a little  too  much  to  Big- 
ler in,  may  not  turn  out  a fortune  for  thee  and  the  rest  of  the 
children  ? ” 

“ Ah,  father,  thee  sees  every  thing  in  a rose-colored  light. 
I do  believe  thee  wouldn’t  have  so  readily  allowed  me  to 
begin  the  study  of  medicine,  if  it  hadn’t  had  the  novelty  of 
an  experiment  to  thee.” 

And  is  thee  satisfied  with  it  ? ” 

“If  thee  means,  if  I have  had  enough  of  it,  no.  I just 
begin  to  see  what  1 can  do  in  it,  and  what  a noble  profession 
it  is  for  a woman.  Would  thee  have  me  sit  here  like  a bird 
on  a bough  and  wait  for  somebody  to  come  and  put  me  in  a 
cage  ? ” 

Mr.  Bolton  was  not  sorry  to  divert  the  talk  from  his  own 
affairs,  and  he  did  not  think  it  worth  while  to  tell  his  family 
of  a performance  that  very  day  which  was  entirely  character- 
istic of  him. 

Ruth  might  well  say  that  she  felt  as’ if  she  were  living  in 
a house  of  cards,  although  the  Bolton  household  had  no  idea 
of  the  number  of  perils  that  hovered  over  them,  any  more 
than  thousands  of  families  in  America  have  of  the  business 
risks  and  contingences  upon  which  their  prosperity  and  lux- 
ury hang. 

A sudden  call  upon  Mr.  Bolton  for  a large  sum  of  money, 
which  must  be  forthcoming  at  once,  had  found  him  in  the 
midst  of  a dozen  ventures,  from  no  one  of  which  a dollar 
could  be  realized.  It  was  in  vain  that  he  applied  to  his  busi- 
ness acquaintances  and  friends;  it  was  a period  of  sudden 
panic  and  no  money.  “ A hundred  thousand ! Mr.  Bolton,” 


THE  KOCK  ON  WHICH  WE  BUILD.  24:3 

■said  Plumly.  “ Good  God,  if  you  should  ask  me  for  ten,  I 
shouldn’t  know  where  to  get  it.” 

And  yet  that  day  Mr.  Small  (Pennybacker,  Bigler  and 
Small)  came  to  Mr.  Bolton  with  a piteous  story  of  ruin  in  a 
eoal  operation,  if  he  could  not  raise  ten  thousand  dollars. 
Only  ten,  and  he  was  sure  of  a fortune.  Without  it  he  was 
a beggar.  Mr.  Bolton  had  already  Small’s  notes  for  a large 
amount  in  his  safe,  labeled  “doubtful;”  he  had  helped  him 
again  and  again,  and  always  with  the  same  result.  But  Mr. 
Small  spoke  with  a faltering  voice  of  his  family,  his  daughter 
in  school,  his  wife  ignorant  of  his  calamity,  and  drew  such  a 
picture  of  their  agony,  that  Mr.  Bolton  put  by  his  own  more 
pressing  necessity,  and  devoted  the  day  to  scraping  together, 
here  and  there,  ten  thousand  dollars  for  this  brazen  beggar, 
who  had  never  kept  a promise  to  him  nor  paid  a debt. 

Beautiful  credit ! The  foundation  of  modern  society. 
Who  shall  say  that  this  is  not  the  golden  age  of  mutual  trust, 
of  unlimited  reliance  upon  human  promises?  That  is  a 
peculiar  condition  of  society  which  enables  a whole  nation  to 
instantly  recognize  point  and  meaning  in  the  familiar  news- 
paper anecdote,  which  puts  into  the  mouth  of  a distinguished 
speculator  in  lands  and  mines  this  remark  : — “ I wasn’t  worth 
a cent  two  years  ago,  and  now  I owe  two  millions  of  dollars.’^ 


CHAPTER  XXVII, 


if  0vy  ri  irpap^S^hr’  ijSXejrey,  rv^Xof  ycycof, 
ov  prjy  virenTT]^*  ovSiv,  dXX’  evKapSiois 
Paroy  tiv'  aWrjy  ^Xar’  eis  dKay^iyrjy, 
kok’  Totxf’  iyever*  s^av^is  Ik  Tv<p\ov  ^\iir<ay, 

IT  was  a hard  blow  to  poor  Sellers  to  see  the  work  on  his 
darling  enterprise  stop,  and  the  noise  and  bustle  and  con- 
fusion that  had  been  such  refreshment  to  his  soul,  sicken  and 
die  out.  It  was  hard  to  come  down  to  humdrum  ordinary  life 
again  after  being  a General  Superintendent  and  the  most 
conspicuous  man  in  the  community.  It  was  sad  to  see  his 
name  disappear  from  the  newspapers ; sadder  still  to  see  it 
resurrected  at  intervals,  shorn  of  its  aforetime  gaudy  gear  of 
compliments  and  clothed  on  with  rhetorical  tar  and  feathers. 

But  his  friends  suffered  more  on  his  account  than  he  did. 
He  was  a cork  that  could  not  be  kept  under  the  water  many 
moments  at  a time. 

He  had  to  bolster  up  his  wife’s  spirits  every  now  and  then. 
On  one  of  these  occasions  he  said : 

It’s  all  right,  my  dear,  all  right ; it  will  all  come  right  in 
a little  while.  There’s  $200,000  coming,  and  that  will  sef 
things  booming  again.  Harry  seems  to  be  having  some  dif‘ 
ficulty,  but  that’s  to  be  expected — you  can’t  move  these  big 


COL.  SELLERS  COMEORTS  HIS  WIFE. 


246 


operations  to  the  tune  of  Fisher’s  Hornpipe,  you  know.  But 
Harry  will  get  it  started  along  presently,  and  then  you’ll  see ! 
I expect  the  news  every  day  now.” 

“ But  Beriah,  you’ve  heen  expecting  it  every  day,  all  along, 
haven’t  you  ?” 

‘‘Well, yes;  yes — I don’t  know  but  I have.  But  anyway, 
the  longer  it’s  delayed,  the  nearer  it  grows  to  the  time  when 
it  will  start — same  as  every  day  you  live  brings  you  nearer 
^to — nearer — ” 

“ The  grave  ?” 

“Well,  no — not  that  exactly;  but  you  can’t  understand 
these  things,  Polly  dear — women  haven’t  much  head  for  bus- 
iness, you  know.  You  make  yourself  perfectly  comfortable, 
old  lady,  and  you’ll  see  how  we’ll  trot  this  right  along.  Why 
bless  you,  let  the  appropriation  lag,  if  it  wants  to — that’s  no 
great  matter — there’s  a bigger  thing  than  that.” 

“ Bigger  than  $200,000,  Beriah  ? ” 

“ Bigger,  child  ? — why,  what’s  $200,000  ? Pocket  money ! 
Mere  pocket  money ! Look  at  the  railroad ! Did  you  forget 
the  railroad  ? It  ain’t  many  months  till  spring ; it  will  be 
coming  right  along,  and  the  railroad  swimming  right  along 
•behind  it.  Where’ll  it  be  by  the  middle  of  summer?  Just 
■stop  and  fancy  a moment — just  think  a little — don’t  anything 
suggest  itself  ? Bless  your  heart,  you  dear  women  live  right  in 
the  present  all  the  time — but  a man,  why  a man  lives 

“ In  the  future,  Beriah  ? But  don’t  we  live  in  the  future 
most  too  much,  Beriah  ? We  do  somehow  seem  to  manage  to 
live  on  next  year’s  crop  of  corn  and  potatoes  as  a general 
thing  while  this  year  is  still  dragging  along,  but  sometimes 
it’s  not  a robust  diet, — ’Beriah.  But  don’t  look  that  way, 
dear — don’t  mind  what  I say.  I don’t  mean  to  fret,  I don’t 
-mean  to  worry  ; and  I donJt^  once  a month,  do  I,  dear?  But 
when  I get  a little  low  and  feel  bad,  I get  a bit  troubled  and 
worrisome,  but  it  don’t  mean  anything  in  the  world.  It 
passes  right  away.  I know  you’re  doing  all  you  can,  and  I 
don’t  want  to  seem  repining  and  ungrateful — for  I’m  not^ 
Beriah — you  know, I’m  not,  don’t  you?” 

Lord  bless  you,  child,  I know  you  are  the  very  best  little 


TELLING  ABOUT  THE  IIAILROAD. 


MG 


woman  that  e\^er  lived — that  ever  lived  on  the  whole  face  of 
the  Earth ! And  I know  that  I would  be  a dog  not  to  work 
for  you  and  think  for  you  and  scheme  for  you  with  all  my 
might.  And  I’ll  bring  things  all  right  yet,  honey — cheer  up 
and  don’t  you  fear.  The  railroad ” 

Oh,  I had  forgotten  the  railroad,  dear,  but  when  a body 
gets  blue,  a body  forgets  everything.  Yes,  the  railroad — tell 
me  about  the  railroad.” 

‘‘  Aha,  my  girl,  don’t  you  see  ? Things  ain’t  so  dark,  are 
they?  Now /didn’t  forget  the  railroad.  Now  just  think 
for  a moment — just  figure  up  a little  on  the  future  dead 
moral  certainties.  For  instance,  call  this  waiter  St.  Louis. 

“ And  we’ll  lay  this  fork  (representing  the  railroad)  from  St. 
Louis  to  this  potato,  which  is  Slouchburg : 

“ Then  with  this  carving  knife  we’ll  continue  the  railroad 
from  Slouchburg  to  Doodleville,  shown  by  the  black  pepper : 

‘‘  Then  we  run  along  the^ — ^yes — the  comb — to  the  tumbler 
— that’s  Brimstone : 

Thence  by  the  pipe  to  Belshazzar,  which  is  the  salt-cellar: 

‘‘  Thence  to,  to — that  quill — Catfish — hand  me  the  pin- 
cushion, Marie  Antoinette : 

“ Thence  right  along  these  shears  to  this  horse,  Babylon : 

‘‘  Then  by  the  spoon  to  Bloody  Bun — thank  you,  the  ink  : 

‘‘  Thence  to  Hail  Columbia — snuffers,  Polly,  please — move 
that  cup  and  saucer  close  up,  that’s  Hail  Columbia : 

“ Then — let  me  open  my  knife — to  Hark-from-the-Tomb, 
where  we’ll  put  the  candle-stick — only  a little  distance  from  Hail 
Columbia  to  Hark-from-the-Tomb — down-grade  all  the  way. 

And  there  we  strike  Columbus  Biver — pass  me  two  or 
three  skeins  of  thread  to  stand  for  the  river ; the  sugar  bowl 
will  do  for  Hawkeye,  and  the  rat  trap  for  Stone’s  Landing— 
Napoleon,  I mean — and  you  can  see  how  much  better  Napo- 
leon is  located  than  Hawkeye.  Now  here  you  are  with  your 
railroad  complete,  and  showing  its^  continuation  to  Hallelujah,, 
and  thence  to  Corruptionville. 

“Now  then — there  you  are!  It’s  a beautiful  road,  beau- 
tiful. . Jeff  Thompson  can  out-engineer  any  civil  engineer 
that  ever  sighted  through  an  aneroid,  or  a theodolite,  or 


A RIPPING  ROAD,  AND  WHAT  A COUNTRY. 


24T 


whatever  they  call  it — he  calls  it  sometimes  one  and  some- 
times the  other — ^jiist  whichever  levels  off  his  sentence  neatest, 
I reckon.  But  ain’t  it  a ripping  road,  though  ? I tell  you, 
it’ll  make  a stir  when  it  gets  along.  Just  see  what  a country 
it  goes  through.  There’s  your  onions  at  Slouchburg  —noblest 
onion  country  that  graces  God’s  footstool ; and  there’s  your 
turnip  country  all  around  Doodleville  — bless  my  life,  what 
fortunes  are  going  to  be  made  there  when  they  get  that  con- 
trivance perfected  for  extracting  olive  oil  out  of  turnips — if 
there’s  any  in  them  ; and  I reckon  there  is,  because  Congress 
has  made  an  appropriation  of  money  to  test  the  thing,  and 
they  wouldn’t  have  done  that  just  on  conjecture,  of  course. 
And  now  we  come  to  the  Brimstone  region  — cattle  raised 
there  till  you  can’t  rest — and  corn,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing. 
Then  you’ve  got  a little  stretch  along  through  Belshazzar 
that  don’t  produce  anything  now — at  least  nothing  but  rocks 
— but  irrigation  will  fetch  it.  Then  from  Catfish  to  Babylon 
it’s  a little  swampy,  but  there’s  dead  loads  of  peat  down 
under  there  somewhere.  Next  is  the  Bloody  Bun  and  Hail 
Columbia  country — tobacco  enough  can  be  raised  there  to 
support  two  such  railroads.  Next  is  the  sassparilla  region.  I 
reckon  there’s  enough  of  that  truck  along  in  there  on  the  line 
of  the  pocket-knife,  from  Hail  Columbia  to  Hark-from-the- 
Tomb  to  fat  up  all  the  consumptives  in  all  the  hospitals  from 
Halifax  to  the  Holy  Land.  It  just  grows  like  weeds ! I’ve 
got  a little  belt  of  sassparilla  land  in  there  just  tucked  away 
unobstrusively  waiting  for  my  little  Universal  Expectorant 
to  get  into  shape  in  my  head.  And  I’ll  fix  that,  you  know. 
One  of  these  days  I’ll  have  all  the  nations  of  the  earth  ex- 
pecto — ” 

“ But  Beriah,  dear — ” 

“ Don’t  interrupt  me,  Polly — I don’t  want  you  to  lose  the 
run  of  the  map — well,  take  your  toy -horse,  James  Fitz- James, 
if  you  must  have  it — and  run  along  with  you.  Here,  now 
— the  soap  will  do  for  Babylon.  Let  me  see — where  w^as  I ? 
Oh  yes — now  we  run  down  to  Stone’s  Lan — Napoleon — now 
we  run  down  to  Napoleon.  Beautiful  road.  Look  at  that, 


248 


FORTY-NINE  BRIDGES,  BESIDES  CULVERTS. 


now.  Perfectly  straight  line — straight  as  the  way  to  the 
grave.  And  see  where  it  leaves  Hawk  eye — clear  out  in  the 
cold,  my  dear,  clear  out  in  the  cold.  That  town’s  as  bound 
to  die  as — well  if  I owned  it  I’d  get  its  obituary  ready,  now, 
and  notify  the  mourners.  Polly,  mark  my  words — in  three 
years  from  this.  Hawkey e’ll  he  a howling  wilderness.  You’ll 
see.  And  just  look  at  that  river — noblest  stream  that  mean- 
ders over  the  thirsty  earth  ! — calmest,  gentlest  artery  that 
refreshes  her  weary  bosom  ! Pailroad  goes  all  over  it  and 
all  through  it  — wades  right  along  on  stilts.  Seventeen 


RESULT  OF  A STRAIGHT  LINE. 


bridges  in  three  miles  and  a half — forty-nine  bridges  from 
Hark-from-the-Tomb  to  Stone’s  Landing  altogether  — forty- 
nine  bridges,  and  culverts  enough  to  culvert  creation  itself ! 
Hadn’t  skeins  of  thread  enough  to  represent  them  all  — but 
you  get  an  idea — perfect  trestle-work  of  bridges  for  seventy- 
two  miles.  Jeff  Thompson  and  I fixed  all  that,  you  know ; 
he’s  to  get  the  contracts  and  I’m  to  put  them  through  on  the 
divide.  Just  oceans  of  money  in  those  bridges.  It’s  the 
only  part  of  the  railroad  I’m  interested  hi, — down  along  the 
line — and  it’s  all  I want,  too.  It’s  enough,  I should  judge. 
How  here  we  are  at  Hapoleon.  Good  enough  country — 
plenty  good  enough — all  it  wants  is  population.  That’s  all 
right — that  will  come.  And  it’s  no  bad  country  now  for 
calmness  and  solitude,  I can  tell  you  — though  there’s  no 


A GOOD  TiME  COMING— BY  RAIL. 


249 


money  in  that,  of  course.  No  money,  but  a man  wants  rest, 
a man  wants  peace — a man  don’t  want  to  rip  and  tear  around 
all  the  time.  And  here  we  go,  now,  just  as  stmight  as  a 
string  for  Hallelujah — it’s  a beautiful  angle — handsome  up- 
grade all  the  way — and  then  away  you  go  to  Corruption ville, 
the  gaudiest  country  for  early  carrots  and  cauliflowers  that 
ever — good  missionary  held,  too.  There  ain’t  such  another 
missionary  field  outside  the  jungles  of  Central  Africa.  And 
patriotic  ? — why  they  named  it  after  Congress  itself.  Oh,  I 
warn  you,  my  dear,  there’s  a good  time  coming,  and  it’ll  be 
right  along  before  you  know  what  you’re  about,  too.  That 
railroad’s  fetching  it.  You  see  what  it  is  as  far  as  I’ve  got, 
and  if  I had  enough  bottles  and  soap  and  boot-jacks  and  such 
things  to  carry  it  along  to  where  it  joins  onto  the  Union 
Pacific,  fourteen  hundred  miles  from  here,  I should  exhibit 
to  you  in  that  little  internal  improvement  a spectacle  of  incon- 
ceivable sublimity.  So,  don’t  you  see?  We’ve  got  the  rail- 
road to  fall  back  on ; and  in  the  meantime,  what  are  we 
worrying  about  that  $200,000  appropriation  for  ? That’s  all 
right.  I’d  be  willing  to  bet  anything  that  the  very  next 
letter  that  comes  from  Harry  will — ” 

The  eldest  boy  entered  just  in  the  nick  of  time  and  brought 
a letter,  warm  from  the  post-office. 

“ Things  do  look  bright,  after  all,  Beriah.  I’m  sorry  I 
was  blue,  but  it  did  seem  as  if  everything  had  been  going 
against  us  for  whole  ages.  Open  the  letter — open  it  quick, 
and  let’s  know  all  about  it  before  we  stir  out  of  our  places. 
I am  all  in  a fidget  to  know  what  it  says.” 

The  letter  was  opened,  without  any  unnecessary  delay. 


CHAPTER  XXYIIl. 


Hvo  der  vil  kjobe  Poise  af  H unden  maa  give  ham  Flesk  igjen. 

— Mit  seinem  eignen  Verstande  wurde  Thrasyllus  schwerlich  durchgekommen 
seyn.  Aber  in  solchen  Fallen  finden  seinesgleichen  fiir  ihr  Geld  immer  einen 
Spitzbuben,  der  ihnen  seinen  Kopf  leiht ; und  danu  ist  es  so  viel  als  ob  sie  selbsfe 
einen  batten.  Wieland.  Die  AJjderiten. 


WHATEVER  may  have  been  the  language  of  Harry’if 
letter  to  the  Colonel,  the  information  it  conveyed  waff 
condensed  or  expanded,  one  or  the  other,  from  the  following 
episode  of  his  visit  to  New  York: 

He  called,  with  official  importance  in  his  mien,  at  No. , 

Wall  street,  where  a great  gilt  sign  betokened  the  presence 
of  the  head-quarCers  of  the  “ Columbus  River  Slack-W ater 
Navigation  Company.”  He  entered  and  gave  a dressy  porter 
his  card,  and  was  requested  to  wait  a moment  in  a sort  of 
ante-room.  The  porter  returned  in  a minute,  and  asked  whom 
he  would  like  to  see  ? 

‘‘  The  president  of  the  company,  of  course.” 

“ He  is  busy  with  some  gentlemen,  sir ; says  he  will  be  done 
with  them  directly.” 

That  a copper-plate  card  with  “ Engineer-in-Cliief  ” on  it 
should  be  received  with  such  tranquility  as  this,  annoyed  Mr. 
Brierly  not  a little.  But  he  had  to  submit.  Indeed  his 
annoyance  had  time  to  augment  a good  deal;  for  he  was 
allowed  to  cool  his  heels  a full  half  hour  in  the  ante-room 
before  those  gentlemen  emerged  and  he  was  ushered  into  the 
presence.  He  found  a stately  dignitary  occupying  a very 
official  chair  behind  a long  green  morocco-covered  table,  in  a 

250 


A WALL  STREET  OFFICE.  251 

room  sumptuously  carpeted  and  furnished,  and  well  garnished 
with  pictures. 

“Good  morning,  sir;  take  a seat — take  a seat.” 

“Thank  you  sir,”  said  Harry,  throwing  as  much  chill  into 
his  manner  as  his  ruffled  dignity  prompted. 

“ We  perceive  by  your  reports  and  the  reports  of  the  Chief 
Superintendent,  that  you  have  been  making  gratifying  pro- 


AT  HEADQUARTERS. 


gress  with  the  work. — We  are  all  very  much  pleased.” 

“Indeed?  We  did  not  discover  it  from  your  letters — 
which  we  have  not  received ; nor  by  the  treatment  our  drafts 
have  met  with — which  were  not  honored  ; nor  by  the  recep- 
tion of  any  part  of  the  appropriation,  no  part  of  it  having- 
come  to  hand.” 

“Why,  my  dear  Mr.  Brierly,  there  must  be  some  mistake- 
I am  sure  we  wrote  you  and  also  Mr.  Sellers,  recently — when 
my  clerk  comes  he  will  show  copies — letters  informing  yon 
of  the  ten  per  cent,  assessment.” 

“ Oh,  certainly,  we  got  those  letters.  But  what  we  wanted  ^ 
was  money  to  carry  on  the  work — money  to  pay  the  men.” 


352 


STOCK  HOLDING  AND  ASSESSMENTS. 


“ Certainly,  certainly — true  enough — but  we  credited  you 
both  for  a large  part  of  your  assessments — I am  sure  that  was 
dn  our  letters.” 

“ Of  course  that  was  in — I remember  that.” 

“ Ah,  very  well  then.  Now  we  begin  to  understand  each 
other.” 

“Well,  I don’t  see  that  we  do.  There’s  two  months’  wages 
due  the  men,  and ” 

“ How  ? Haven’t  you  paid  the  men  ? ” 

“ Paid  them ! How  are  we  going  to  pay  them  when  you 
don’t  honor  our  drafts  ? ” 

“ Why,  my  dear  sir,  I cannot  see  how  you  can  find  any 
fault  with  us.  I am  sure  we  have  acted  in  a perfectly  straight 
foru  ard  Inisiness  way.  Now  let  us  look  at  the  thing  a moment. 
You  subscribed  for  100  shares  of  the  capital  stock,  at  $1,000 
a share,  I believe  ? ” 

“ Yes,  sir,  I did.” 

“ And  Mr.  Sellers  look  a like  amount  ? ” 

“Yes,  sir.” 

“Very  well.  No  concern  can  get  along  without  money. 
We  levied  a ten  per  cent,  assessment.  It  was  the  original 
understanding  that  you  and  Mr.  Sellers  were  to  have  the  posi- 
tions you  now  hold,  with  salaries  of  $600  a month  each,  while 
in  active  service.  You  were  duly  elected  to  these  places,  and 
you  accepted  them.  Am  I right  ? ” 

“ Certainly.” 

“Very  well.  You  were  given  your  instructions  and  put 
to  work.  By  yfuir  reports  it  appears  that  you  have  expended 
the  sum  of  $9,610  upon  the  said  work.  Two  montlis 
salary  to  you  two  officers  amounts  altogether  to  $2,400 — 
•about  one-eighth  of  your  ten  per  cent,  assessment,  you  see; 
wdiich  leaves  you  in  debt  to  the  company  for  the  other  seven- 
eighths  of  the  assessment — viz,  something  over  $8,000  apiece. 
Now  instead  of  requiring  you  t(^  tbi-wnrd  this  aggregate  of 
$16,000  or  $17,000  to  New  York,  the  company  voted  unani- 
mously to  let  you  pay  it  over  to  the  contractors,  laborers  from 
time  to  time,  and  give  you  credit  on  the  books  for  it.  And 
{they  did  it  without  a murmur,  too,  for  they  were  pleased  with 


FIGURES  WON’T  LIE. 


25S 


the  progress  you  had  made,  and  were  glad  to  pay  you  that 
little  compliment — and  a very  neat  one  it  was,  too,  I am  sure. 
The  work  you  did  fell  short  of  $10,000,  a trifle.  Let  me  see 
— $9,640  from  $20,000 — salary  $2,400  added — ah  yes,  the 
balance  due  the  company  from  yourself  and  Mr.  Sellers  is 
$7,960,  which  I will  take  the  responsibility  of  allowing  to 
stand  for  the  present,  unless  you  prefer  to  draw  a check  now, 
and  thus ” 

Confound  it,  do  you  mean  to  say  that  instead  of  the  com- 
pany owing  us  $2,400,  we  owe  the  company  $7,960  ? ” 

“Well,  yes.” 

“ And  that  we  owe  the  men  and  the  contractors  nearly  ten 
thousand  dollars  besides  ? ” 

“ Owe  them  ! Oh  bless  my  soul,  you  can’t  mean  that  you 
have  not  paid  these  people  ? ” 

“But  I do  mean  it ! ”. 

The  president  rose  and  walked  the  floor  like  a man  in 


TOUCHING  A WEAK  SPOT. 


bodily  pain.  His  brows  contracted,  he  put  his  hand  up  and 
clasped  his  forehead,  and  kept  saying,  “ Oh,  it  is  too  bad,  too 


PLAIN  TALK. 


bad,  too  bad ! Oh,  it  is  bound  to  be  found  out — nothing 
can  prevent  it — nothing ! ” 

Then  he  threw  himself  into  his  chair  and  said : 

“ My  dear  Mr.  Brierson,  this  is  dreadful — perfectly  dread- 
ful. It  will  be  found  out.  It  is  bound  to  tarnish  the  good 
name  of  the  company ; our  credit  will  be  seriously,  most 
seriously  impaired. ' How  could  you  be  so  thoughtless — the 
men  ought  to  have  been  paid  though  it  beggared  us  all ! ” 

‘‘  They  ought,  ought  they  ? Then  why  the  devil — my 
name  is  not  Bryerson,  by  the  way — why  the  mischief  didn’t 
the  compa — why  what  in  the  nation  ever  became  of  the  ap- 
propriation ? Where  is  that  appropriation  ? — if  a stockholder 
may  make  so  bold  as  to  ask.” 

The  appropriation  ? — that  paltry  $200,000,  do  you 
mean  ? ” 

‘‘  Of  course — ^but  I didn’t  know  that  $200,000  was  so  very 
paltry.  Though  I grant,  of  course,  that  it  is  not  a large  sum, 
strictly  speaking.  But  where  is  it  ? ” 

“ My  dear  sir,  you  surprise  me.  You  surely  cannot  have 

had  a large  acquaintance 
with  this  sort  of  thing. 
Otherwise  you  would  not 
have  expected  much  of  a 
result  from  a mere  initial 
appropriation  like  that.  It 
was  never  intended  for  any- 
thing but  a mere  nest  egg 
for  the  future  and  real  ap- 
propriations to  cluster 
around.” 

‘Hndeed?  Well,  was  it  a 
myth,  or  was  it  a reality  ? 
Whatever  become  of  it  ? ” 

“ Why  the  matter  is  simple  enough.  A Congressional  ap- 
propriation costs  money.  Just  reflect,  for  instance.  A 
majority  of  the  House  Committee,  say  $10,000  apiece — 
$40,000 ; a majority  of  the  Senate  Committee,  the  same  each 


CHAIRMAN  OP  COMMITTEE,  $10,000. 


HOW  THEY  LOOK. 


255 


-^say  $40,000 ; a little  extra  to  one  or  two  chairmen  of  one 
or  two  such  committees, 
say  $10,000  each — $20,000 ; 
and  there’s  $100,000  of  the 
money  gone,  to  begin  v/ith. 

'Then,  seven  male  lobbyists, 

;at  $3,000  each — $21,000; 

-one  female  lobbyist,  $10,- 
000 ; a high  moral  Con- 
gressman or  Senator  here 
and  there — the  high  moral 
ones  cost  more,  because  they 
give  tone  to  a measure — 
say  ten  of  these  at  $3,000 
each,  is  $30,000;  then  a 
lot  of  small-fry  country 
members  who  won’t  vote 
for  anything  whatever  with- 
out pay — say  twenty  at 
$500  apiece,  is  $10,000 ; a 
lot  of  dinners  to  members 
— say  $10,000  altogether; 
lot  of  jimcracks  for  Con- 
gressmen’s wives  and  child- 
ren— those  go  a long  way 
— ^you  can’t  spend  too  much 
money  in  that  line — well, 
those  things  cost  in  a lump, 
say  $10,000  — along  there 
somewhere  ; — and  then 
comes  your  printed  docu 


FEMALE  LOBBYIST  $3,000. 


pamphlets,  your  illuminat- 
ed show  cards,  your  adver- 
tisements in  a hundred  and 
fifty  papers  at  ever  so  much  high  moral  senator  ^o,uoo. 

a line — because  you’ve  got  to  keep  the  papers  all  right 


256 


THE  COMPANY’S  GREAT  CARDS. 


COUNTRY  MEMBER,  $600. 


you  are  gone  up,  you  know.  Oh,  my  dear  sir,  printing 
bills  are  destruction  itself.  Ours,  so  far  amount  to — let  me 

see— 10 ; 52  ; 22 ; 13 and 
then  there’s  11 ; 14 ; 33— 
well,  never  mind  the  de^ 
tails,  the  total  in  clean  num- 
bers foots  up  $118,254.42 
thus  far ! ” 

“ What ! ” 

Oh,  yes  indeed.  Print- 
ing’s no  bagatelle,  I can  tell 
you.  And  then  there’s 
your  contributions,  as  a com- 
pany, to  Chicago  fires  and 
Boston  fires,  and  orphan 
asylums  and  all  that  sort 
of  thing — head  the  list,  you  see,  with  the  company’s  full 
name  and  a thousand  dollars  set  opposite — great  card,  sir — 
one  of  the  finest  advertisements  in  the  world — the  preachers 
mention  it  in  the  pulpit  when  it’s  a religious  charity — one  of 
the  happiest  advertisements  in  the  world  is  your  benevolent 
donation.  Ours  have  amounted  to  sixteen  thousand  dollars 
and  some  cents  up  to  this  time.” 

“ Good  heavens ! ” 

‘‘  Oh,  yes.  Perhaps  the  biggest  thing  we’ve  done  in  the 
advertising  line  was  to  get  an  officer  of  the  U.  S.  govern- 
ment, of  perfectly  Himmalayan  official  altitude,  to  write  up 
our  little  internal  improvement  for  a religious  paper  of  enor- 
mous circulation — I tell  you  that  makes  our  bonds  go  hand- 
somely among  the  pious  poor.  Your  religious  paper  is  by 
far  the  best  vehicle  for  a thing  of  this  kind,  because  they’ll 
* lead  ’ your  article  and  put  it  right  in  the  midst  of  the  read- 
ing matter  ; and  if  it’s  got  a few  Scripture  quotations  in  it, 
and  some  temperance  platitudes  and  a bit  of  gush  here  and 
there  about  Sunday  Schools,  and  a sentimental  snuffie  now 
and  then  about  ‘ God’s  precious  ones,  the  honest  hard-handed 
poor,’  it  works  the  nation  like  a charm,  my  dear  sir,  and 


THE  NEXT  BEST  DODGE. 


257 


never  a man  suspects  that  it  is  an  advertisement ; but  your 
secular  paper  sticks  you  right  into  the  advertising  columns 
and  of  course  you  don’t  take  a trick.  Give  me  a religious 
paper  to  advertise  in,  every  time ; and  if  you’ll  just  look  at 
their  advertising  pages,  you’ll  observe  that  other  people  think 
a good  deal  as  I do — especially  people  who  have  got  little 
financial  schemes  to  make  everybody  rich  with.  Of  course  I 
mean  your  great  big  metropolitan  religious  papers  that  know 
how  to  serve  God  and  make  money  at  the  same  time — that’s 
your  sort,  sir,  that’s  your  sort — a rehgious  paper  that  isn’t 
run  to  make  money  is  no  use  to  us,  sir,  as  an  advertising 
medium — no  use  to  anybody  in  our  line  of  business.  I 
guess  our  next  best  dodge  was  sending  a pleasure  trip  of 
newspaper  reporters  out  to  l^apoleon.  JN^ever  paid  them  a 
cent;  just  filled  them  up  with  champagne  and  the  fat  of  the 
land,  put  pen,  ink  and  paper  before  them  while  they  were 
red-hot,  and  bless  your  soul  when  you  come  to  read  their 
letters  you’d  have  supposed  they’d  been  to  heaven.  And  if  a 
sentimental  squeamishness  held  one  or  two  of  them  back  from 
taking  a less  rosy  view  of  Napoleon,  our  hospitalities  tied  his 
tongue,  at  least,  and  he  said  nothing  at  all  and  so  did  us  no 
harm.  Let  me  see — have  I stated  all  the  expenses  I’ve  been 
at  ? No,  I was  near  forgetting  one  or  two  items.  There’s 
your  official  salaries — you  can’t  get  good  men  for  nothing. 
Salaries  cost  pretty  lively.  And  then  there’s  your  big  high- 
sounding  millionaire  names  stuck  into  your  advertisements  as 
stockholders — another  card,  that — and  they  are  stockholders, 
too,  but  you  have  to  give  them  the  stock  and  n on-assessable 
at  that — so  they’re  an  expensive  lot.  Very,  very  expensive 
thing,  take  it  all  around,  is  a big  internal  improvement  con- 
cern— but  you  see  that  yourself,  Mr.  Bryerman — ^you  see  that, 
yourself,  sir.” 

“ But  look  here.  I think  you  are  a little  mistaken  about 
it’s' ever  having  cost  anything  for  Congressional  votes.  I 
happen  to  know  something  about  that.  I’ve  let  you  say  your 
say — now  let  me  say  mine.  I don’t  wish  to  seem  to  throw 
any  suspicion  on  anybody’s  statements,  because  we  are  all 
liable  to  be  mistaken.  But  how  would  it  strike  you  if  I were 
17- 


258 


HARRY  DON’T  SEE  THE  POINT. 


to  say  that  1 was  in  W asliington  all  the  time  this  bill  was 
pending? — and  what  if  I added  that  I put  the  measure 
through  myself?  Yes,  sir,  I did  that  little  thing.  And  more- 
over, I never  paid  a dollar  for  any  man’s  vote  and  never 
promised  one.  There  are  some  ways  of  doing  a thing  that 
are  as  good  as,  others  which  other  people  don’t  happen  to 
think  about,  or  don’t  have  the  knack  of  succeeding  in,  if  they 
do  happen  to  think  of  them.  My  dear  sir,  I am  obliged  to 
knock  some  of  your  expenses  in  the  head — for  never  a cent 
was  paid  a Congressman  or  Senator  on  the  part  of  this  Navi- 
gation Company. 

The  president  smiled  blandly,  even  sweetly,  all  through 
this  harangue,  and  then  said  : 

“ Is  that  so  ?” 

‘‘  Every  word  of  it.” 

“Well  it  does  seem  to  alter  the  complexion  of  things  a 
little.  You  are  acquainted  with  the  members  down  there,  of 
course,  else  you  could  not  have  worked  to  such  advantage  ?” 

“ I know  them  all,  sir.  I know  their  wives,  their  children, 
their  babies — I even  made  it  a point  to  be  on  good  terms 
with  their  lackeys.  I know  every  Congressman  well — even 
familiarly.” 

“ y ery  good.  Do  ^mu  know  any  of  their  signatures  ? Do 
you  know  their  handwriting?” 

“ Why  I know  their  handwriting  as  well  as  I know  my 
own — have  had  correspondence  enough  with  them,  I should 
think.  And  their  signatures — why  1 can  tell  their  initials, 
even.” 

The  president  went  to  a private  safe,  unlocked  it  and  got 
out  some  letters  and  certain  slips  of  paper.  Then  he  said  : 

“ Now  here,  for  instance ; do  you  believe  that  that  is  a 
■genuine  letter?  Do  you  know  this  signature  here? — and 
this  one  ? Do  you  know  who  those  initials  represent — and 
are  they  forgeries  ?” 

Harry  was  stupefied.  There  were  things  there  that  made 
his  brain  swim.  Presently,  at  the  bottom  of  one  of  the 
letters  he  saw  a signature  that  restored  his  equilibrium ; it 
even  brought  the  sunshine  of  a smile  to  his  face. 


IIAliRY  GETS  LIGHT. 


259 


The  president  said : 

That  name  amuses  you.  You  never  suspected  him  ? ” 

Of  course  I ought  to  have  susj^ected  him,  but  I don’t 
believe  it  ever  really  occurred  to  me.  Well,  well,  well — 


DOCUMENTARY  PROOF. 


bow  did  you  ever  have  the  nerve  to  approach  him,  of  all 
others?” 

‘Why  my  friend,  we  never  think  of  accomplishing  any- 
thing without  his  help.  He  is  our  mainstay.  But  how  do 
those  letters  strike  you  ? ” 

“ They  strike  me  dumb  ! What  a stone-blind  idiot  I have 
been ! ” 

“ Well,  take  it  all  around,  I suppose  you  had  a pleasant 
time  in  Washington,”  said  the  president,  gathering  up  the 
letters ; “ of  course  you  must  have  had.  Y ery  few  men 
could  go  there  and  get  a money  bill  through  without  buying 
a sino-le — ” 

“ Come,  now,  Mr.  President,  that’s  plenty  of  that ! I take 
back  everything  I said  on  that  head.  I’m  a wiser  man  to-day 
than  I was  yesterday,  I can  tell  you.” 


260 


WHAT  BECAME  OF  THE  $200,000. 


“ I think  you  are.  In  fact  I am  satisfied  you  are.  But 
now  I showed  you  these  things  in  confidence,  you  under- 
stand. Mention  facts  as  much  as  you  want  to,  but  don’t 
mention  names  to  anybody.  I can  depend  on  you  for  that, 
can’t  I ? ” 

Oh,  of  course.  I understand  the  necessity  of  that.  I 
will  not  betray  the  names.  But  to  go  back  a bit,  it  begins  to 
look  as  if  you  never  saw  any  of  that  appropriation  at  all  % ” 
We  saw  nearly  ten  thousand  dollars  of  it — and  that  wa» 
all.  Several  of  us  took  turns  at  log-rolling  in  Washington, 
and  if  we  had  charged  anything  for  that  service,  none  of  that 
$10,000  would  ever  have  reached  Hew  YorJj.” 

“ If  you  hadn’t  levied  the  assessment  you  would  have  been 
in  a close  place  I judge  ? ” 

‘‘  Close  ? Have  you  figured  up  the  total  of  the  disburse- 


ments I told  you  of  ? ” 

“Ho,  I didn’t  think  of  that.” 

“Well,  lets  see : 

Spent  in  Washington,  say,  . . $191,000 

Printing,  advertising,  etc.,  say,  . 118,000 

Charity,  say,  . . ^ 16,000 


Total,  . . $325,000 

“ The  money  to  do  that  with,  comes  from — ^ — 

Appropriation,  . . . $200,000 

Ten  per  cent,  assessment  on  capital  of 

$1,000,000,  . . . . 100,000 


Total,  . . $300,000 


“ Which  leaves  us  in  debt  some  $25,000  at  this  moment. 
Salaries  of  home  officers  are  still  going  on  ; also  printing  and 
advertising.  Hext  month  will  show  a state  of  things ! ” ' 

“ And  then — burst  up,  I suppose  ? ” 

“ By  no  means.  Levy  another  assessment.” 

“ Oh,  I see.  That’s  dismal.” 

“ By  no  means.” 

“Why  isn’t  it?  What’s  the  road  out?” 

“ Another  appropriation,  don’t  you  see  ? ” 


MOURNING  ALL  ’ROUND. 


261 


Bother  the  appropriations.  They  cost  more  than  they 
come  to.” 

Not  the  next  one.  We’ll  call  for  half  a million — get  it 
snd  go  for  a million  the  very  next  month.” 

‘‘  Yes,  but  the  cost  of  it ! ” 

The  president  smiled,  and  patted  his  secret  letters  affection- 
ately. He  said : 

‘‘ All  these  people  are  in  the  next  Congress.  We  shan’t 
have  to  pay  them  a cent.  And  what  is  more,  they  will  work 
like  beavers  for  ns — perhaps  it  might  be  to  their  advantage.” 

Harry  reflected  profoundly  a while.  Then  he  said : • 

“We  send  many  missionaries  to  lift  up  the  benighted  races 
of  other  lands.  How  much  cheaper  and  better  it  would  be 
if  those  people  could  only  come  here  and  drink  of  our  civili- 
zation at  its  fountain  head.” 

“ I perfectly  agree  with  you,  Mr.  Beverly.  Must  you  go  ? 
Well,  good  morning.  Look  in,  when  you  are  passing;  and 
whenever  I can  give  you  any  information  about  our  affairs 
and  prospects,  I shall  be  glad  to  do  it.” 

Harry’s  letter  was  not  a long  one,  but  it  contained  at  least 
the  calamitous  figures  that  came  out  in  the  above  conversa- 
tion. The  Colonel  found  himself  in  a rather  uncomfortable 
place — no  $1,200  salary  forthcoming;  and  himself  held 
responsible  for  half  of  the  $9,610  due  the  workmen,  to  say 
nothing  of  being  in  debt  to  the  company  to  the  extent  of 
nearly  $1,000.  Polly’s  heart  was  nearly  broken  ; the  “ blues” 
returned  in  fearful  force,  and  she  had  to  go  out  of  the  room 
to  hide  the  tears  that  nothing  could  keep  back  now. 

There  was  mourning  in  another  quarter,  too,  for  Louisre 
had  a letter.  Washington  had  refused,  at  the  last  moment, 
to  take  $10,000  for  the  Tennessee  Land,  and  had  demanded 
.$150,0001  .So  the  trade  fell  through,  and  now  Washington 
was  wailing  because  he  had  been  so  foolish.  But  he  wrote 
that  his  man  might  probably  return  to  the  city,  soon,  and 
then  he  meant  to  sell  to  him,  sure,  even  if  he  had  to  take 
$10,000.  Louise  had  a good  cry — several  of  them,  indeed — 
and  the  family  charitably  forebore  to  make  any  comments 
that  would  increase  her  grief. 


262 


HAWKEYE  TRIUMPHANT. 


Spring  blossomed,  summer  came,  dragged  its  hot  weeks  bj, 
and  the  Colonel’s  spirits  rose,  day  by  day,  for  the  railroad 
was  making  good  progress.  But  by  and  by  something  hap- 
pened. Hawkeye  had  always  declined  to  subscribe  anything 
toward  the  railway,  imagining  that  her  large  business  would 
be  a sufficient  compulsory  influence ; but  now  Hawkeye  was 
frightened ; and  before  Col.  Sellers  knew  what  he  was  about, 
Hawkeye,  in  a panic,  had  rushed  to  the  front  and  subscribed 
such  a sum  that  Napoleon’s  attractions  suddenly  sank  int(> 
insignificance  and  the  railroad  concluded  to  follow  a compar- 
atively straight  course  instead  of  going  miles  out  of  its  way 
to  build  up  a metropolis  in  the  muddy  desert  of  Stone’s 
Landing. 

The  thunderbolt  fell.  After  all  the  Colonel’s  deep  plan- 
ning; after  all  his  brain  work  and  tongue  work  in  drawing 


COLONEL  SELLERS  DESPONDENT, 

public  attention  to  his  pet  project  and  enlisting  interest  in  it ; 
after  all  his  faitliful  hard  toil  with  his  hands,  and  running 
hither  and  thither  on  his  busy  feet ; after  all  his  high  hopes 
and  splendid  prophecies,  the  fates  had  turned  their  backs  on 


JPEACE  REIGNS  AGAIN  AT  STONE’S  LANDING.  263 

him  at  last,  and  all  in  a moment  his  air-castles  crumbled  to 
ruins  about  him.  Hawkeye  rose  from  her  fright  triumphant 
and  rejoicing,  and  down  went  Stone’s  Landing ! One  by  one 
its  meagre  parcel  of  inhabitants  packed  up  and  moved  away, 
as  the  summer  waned  and  fall  approached.  Town  lots  were 
no  longer  salable,  traffic  ceased,  a deadly  lethargy  fell  upon 
the  place  once  more,  the  ‘^Weekly  Telegraph”  faded  into  an 
early  grave,  the  wary  tadpole  returned  from  exile,  the  bull- 
frog resumed  his  ancient  song,  the  tranquil  turtle  sunned  his 
back  upon  bank  and  log  and  drowsed  his  grateful  life  away 
as  in  the  old  sweet  days  of  yore. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 


— Mihma  hatak  ash  osh  ilhkolit  yakni  ya  hlopullit  tvmaha  holihta  vlhpisa  ho 
kvshkoa  untuklo  ho  hollissochit  holisso  afohkit  tahli  cha.  Chosh.  18.  9. 

Philip  sterling  was  on  his  way  to  Ilinm,  in  the  state  of 
Pennsylvania.  Ilium  was  the  railway  station  nearest 
to  the  tract  of  wild  land  which  Mr.  Bolton  had  commissioned 
him  to  examine. 

On  the  last  day  of  the  journey  as  the  railway  train  Philip 
was  on  was  leaving  a large  city,  a lady  timidly  entered  the 
drawing-room  car,  and  hesitatingly  took  a chair  that  was  at 
the  moment  unoccupied.  Philip  saw  from  the  window  that 
a gentleman  had  put  her  upon  the  car  just  as  it  was  starting. 
In  a few  moments  the  conductor  entered,  and  without  wait- 
ing an  explanation,  said  roughly  to  the  lady, 

Now  you  can’t  sit  there.  That  seat’s  taken.  Go  into 
the  other  car.” 

“1  did  not  intend  to  take  the  seat,”  said  the  lady  rising, 
I only  sat  down  a moment  till  the  conductor  should  come 
and  give  me  a seat.” 

“ There  aint  any.  Car’s  full.  You’ll  have  to  leave.” 

“ But,  sir,”  said  the  lady,  appealingly,  “ I thought ” 

Can’t  help  what  you  thought — you  must  go  into  the 
other  car.” 

“ The  train  is  going  very  fast,  let  me  stand  here  till  we 
&top.” 


264 


RAILROAD  GALLANTRY. 


2G5 


‘^The  lady  can  have  my  seat,”  cried  Philip,  springing  up. 
The  conductor  turned  townvlR  Philip^  and  coolly  and  delib- 


TIIE  MONAKCH  OF  ALL  HE  SURVEYS. 


erately  surveyed  him  from  head  to  foot,  with  contempt  in 
every  line  of  his  face,  turned  his  back  upon  him  without  a 
word,  and  said  to  the  lady, 

‘‘Come,  Pve  got  no  time  to  talk.  You  must  now^ 

The  lady,  entirely  disconcerted  by  such  rudeness,  and 
frightened,  moved  towards  the  door,  opened  it  and  stepped 
out.  The  train  was  swinging  along  at  a rapid  rate,  jarring 
from  side  to  side;  the  step  was  a long  one  between  the  cars 
and  there  was  no  protecting  grating.  The  lady  attempted  it, 
but  lost  her  balance,  in  the  wind  and  the  motion  of  the  car, 
and  fell ! She  would  inevitably  have  gone  down  under  the 
wheels,  if  Philip,  who  had  swiftly  followed  her,  had  not 


266 


PHILIP  STRIKES  FROM  THE  SHOULDER. 


caught  her  arm  and  drawn  her  up.  He  then  assisted  her 
across,  found  her  a seat,  received  her  bewildered  thanks,  and 
returned  to  his  car. 

The  conductor  was  still  there,  taking  his  tickets,  and  growl- 
ing something  about  imposition.  Philip  marched  up  to  him^ 
and  burst  out  with. 

You  are  a brute,  an  infernal  brute,  to  treat  a woman  that 
way.” 

“ Perhaps  you’d  like  to  make  a fuss  about  it,”  sneered  the 
conductor. 

Philip’s  reply  was  a blow,  given  so  suddenly  and  planted 
so  squarely  in  the  conductor’s  face,  that  it  sent  him  reeling- 
over  a fat  passenger,  who  was  looking  up  in  mild  wonder 
that  any  one  should  dare  to  dispute  with  a conductor,  and 
against  the  side  of  the  car. 

He  recovered  himself,  reached  the  bell  rope,  “ Damn  you,. 
I’ll  learn  you,”  stepped  to  the  door  and  called  a couple  of 
brakemen,  and  then,  as  the  speed  slackened,  roared  out, 

“ Get  olF  this  train.” 

“ I shall  not  get  off.  I have  as  much  right  here  as  you.” 

‘‘We’ll  see,”  said  the  conductor,  advancing  with  the  brake- 
men.  The  passengers  protested,  and  some  of  them  said  to 
each  other,  “ That’s  too  bad,”  as  they  always  do  in  such  cases, 
but  none  of  them  offered  to  take  a hand  with  Philip.  The 
men  seized  him,  wrenched  him  from  his  seat,  dragged  him 
along  the  aisle,  tearing  his  clothes,  thrust  him  from  the  car, 
and  then  flung  his  carpet-bag,  overcoat  and  umbrella  after 
him.  And  the  train  went  on. 

The  conductor,  red  in  the  face  and  puffing  from  his  exer- 
tion, swaggered  through  the  car,  muttering  “ Puppy,  I’ll  learn 
him.”  The  passengers,  when  he  had  gone,  were  loud  in  their 
indignation,  and  talked  about  signing  a protest,  but  they  did 
nothing  more  than  talk. 

The  next  morning  the  Hooverville  Patriot  a/)id  Clarion 
had  this  “ item  ” : — 

SLIGHTUALLY  OVERBOARD. 

“We  leam  that  as  the  down  noon  express  was  leaving  H— — yesterday  a 
lady  I (God  save  the  mark)  attempted  to  force  herself  into  the  already  full 


r 


PHILLIP  THRUST  FROM  THE  RAIL  ROAD  CAR. 


WHAT  THE  PAPERS  SAID. 


26T 


palatia,!  car.  Conductor  Slum,  who  is  too  old  a bird  to  be  caught  with  chaff,  court- 
eously informed  her  that  the  car  was  full,  and  when  she  insisted  on  remaining, 
he  persuaded  her  to  go  into  the  car  where  she  belonged.  Thereupon  a young 
sprig,  from  the  East,  blustered  up,  like  a Shanghai  rooster,  and  began  to  sass 
the  conductor  with  his  chin  music.  That  gentleman  delivered  the  young  aspirant 
for  a muss  one  of  his  elegant  little  left-handers,  which  so  astonished  him  that  he 
began  to  feel  for  his  shooter.  Whereupon  Mr.  Slum  gently  raised  the  youth, 
carried  him  forth,  and  set  him  down  just  outside  the  car  to  cool  off.  Whether 
the  young  blood  has  yet  made  his  way  out  of  Bascom’s  swamp,  we  have  not 
learned.  Conductor  Slum  is  one  of  the  most  gentlemanly  and  efficient  officers' 
on  the  road  ; but  he  ain’t  trifled  with,  not  much.  We  learn  that  the  company 
have  put  a new  engine  on  the  seven  o’clock  train,  and  newly  upholstered  the- 
drawing-room  car  throughout.  It  spares  no  effort  for  the  comfort  of  the  travel- 
ing public.” 

Philip  never  had  been  before  in  Bascom’s  swamp,  and 
there  was  nothing  inviting  in  it  to  detain  him.  After  the 
train  got  out  of  the  way  he  crawled  out  of  the  briars  and  the 
mud,  and  got  upon  the  track.  He  was  somewhat  bruised^ 
but  he  was  too  angry  to  mind  that.  He  plodded  along  over 
the  ties  in  a very  hot  condition  of  mind  and  body.  In  the 
scuffle,  his  railway  check  had  disappeared,  and  he  grimly- 
wondered,  as  he  noticed  the  loss,  if  the  company  would  per^ 
mit  him  to  walk  over  their  track  if  they  should  know  he- 
hadn’t  a ticket. 

Philip  had  to  walk  some  five  miles  before  he  reached  a 
little  station,  where  he  could  wait  for  a train,  and  he  had 
ample  time  for  reflection.  At  first  he  was  full  of  vengeance 
on  the  company.  He  would  sue  it.  He  would  make  it  pay 
roundly.  But  then  it  occurred  to  him  that  he  did  not  know 
the  name  of  a witness  he  could  summon,  and  that  a personal 
fight  against  a railway  corporation  was  about  the  most  hope- 
less in  the  world.  He  then  thought  he  would  seek  out  that 
conductor,  lie  in  wait  for  him  at  some  station,  and  thrash  him,, 
or  get  thrashed  himself. 

But  as  he  got  cooler,  that  did  not  seem  to  him  a project 
worthy  of  a gentleman  exactly.  Was  it  possible  for  a gentle^ 
man  to  get  even  with  such  a fellow  as  that  conductor  on 
the  latter’s  own  plane  ? And  when  he  came  to  this  point,  he 
began  to  ask  himself,  if  he  had  not  acted  very  much  like  a 


SOBER  SECOND  THOUGHT. 


^268 

fool.  He  didn’t  regret  striking  the  fellow — he  hoped  he  had 
left  a mark  on  him.  But,  after  all,  was  that  the  best  way? 
Here  was  he,  Philip  Sterling,  calling  himself  a gentleman, 
in  a brawl  with  a vulgar  conductor,  about  a woman  he  had 
never  seen  before.  Why  should  he  have  put  himself  in  such 
a ridiculous  position  ? Wasn’t  it  enough  to  have  oifered  the 
lady  his  seat,  to  have  rescued  her  from  an  accident,  perhaps 
from  death  ? Suppose  he  had  simply  said  to  the  conductor. 
Sir,  your  conduct  is  brutal,  I shall  report  you.”  The  pass* 
engers,  who  saw  the  affair,  might  have  joined  in  a report 
against  the  conductor,  and  he  might  really  have  accomplished 
something.  And,  now  ! Philip  looked  at  his  torn  clothes,  and 
thought  with  disgust  of  his  haste  in  getting  into  a fight  with 
such  an  autocrat. 

At  the  little  station  where  Philip  waited  for  the  next  train, 
he  met  a man  who  turned  out  to  be  a justice  of  the  peace  in 
that  neighborhood,  and  told  him  his  adventure.  He  was  a 
Ivindly  sort  of  man,  and  seemed  very  much  interested. 

‘‘  Hum  ’em  ” said  he,  when  he  had  heard  the  story. 

“ Ho  you  think  any  thing  can  be  done,  sir?” 

Wal,  I guess  tain’t  no  use.  1 hain’t  a mite  of  doubt  of 
every  word  you  say.  But  suin’s  no  use.  The  railroad  com- 
pany owns  all  these  people  along  here,  and  the  judges  on  the 
bench  too.  Spiled  your  clothes  ! wal,  least  said’s  soonest 
mended.”  You  haint  no  chance  with  the  company.” 

When  next  morning,  he  read 
the  humorous  account  in  the 
Patriot  and  Clarion^  he  saw 
still  more  clearly  what  chance 
he  would  have  liad  before  the 
public  in  a fight  with  the  rail- 
road company. 

Still  Philip’s  conscience  told 
him  that  it  was  his  plain  duty 
to  carry  the  matter  into  the 
courts,  even  with  the  certainty 
of  defeat.  He  confessed  that  neither  he  nor  any  citizen  had 
,a  right  to  consult  his  own  feelings  or  conscience  in  a case 


THE  JUSTICE. 

) 


PHILIP  CONFESSES  HE  IS  A BAD  CITIZEN. 


269 


where  a law  of  the  land  had  been  violated  before  his  own. 
eyes.  He  confessed  that  every  citizen’s  first  duty  in  such  a 
case  is  to  put  aside  his  own  business  and  devote  his  time  and. 
his  best  efforts  to  seeing  that  the  infraction  is  promptly  pun- 
ished ; and  he  knew  that  no  country  can  be  well  governed 
unless  its  citizens  as  a body  keep  religiously  before  their 
minds  that  they  are  the  guardians  of  the  law,  and  that  the 
law  officers  are  only  the  machinery  for  its  execution,  nothing- 
more.  As  a finality  he  was  obliged  to  confess  that  he  was  a 
bad  citizen,  and  also  that  the  general  laxity  of  the  time,  and 
the  absence  of  a sense  of  duty  toward  any  part  of  the  commu- 
nity but  the  individual  himself  were  ingrained  in  him,  and 
he  was  no  better  than  the  rest  of  the  people. 

The  result  of  this  little  adventure  was  that  Philip  did  not 
reach  Ilium  till  daylight  the  next  morning,  when  he  descended,, 
sleepy  and  sore,  from  a way  train,  and  looked  about  him. 
Ilium  was  in  a narrow  mountain  gorge,  through  which  a 
rapid  stream  ran.  It  consisted  of  the  plank  platform  on  which 
he  stood,  a wooden  house,  half  painted,  with  a dirty  piazza 
(unroofed)  in  front,  and  a sign  board  hung  on  a slanting  pole 
bearing  the  legend,  “Hotel.  P.  Dusenheimer,”  a sawmill 
further  down  the  stream,  a blacksmith-shop,  and  a store,  and 
three  or  four  unpainted  dwellings  of  the  slab  variety. 

As  Philip  approached 
the  hotel  he  saw  what  ap- 
peared to  be  a wild  beast 
crouching  on  the  piazza. 

It  did  not  stir,  however, 
and  he  soon  found  that 
it  was  only  a stuffed  skin. 

This  cheerful  invitation  to 
the  tavern  was  the  remains 
of  a huge  panther  which 
had  been  killed  in  the  re- 
gion a few  weeks  before. 

Philip  examined  his  ugly  “mine  inn.' 

visage  and  strong  crooked  fore-arm,  as  he  was  waiting  admits 
tance,  having  pounded  upon  the  door. 


S70 


A MODEL  HOTEL. 


“Yait  a bit.  I’ll  slioost  put  on  my  trowsers,”  shouted  a 
Toice  from  the  window,  and  the  door  was  soon  opened  by 
the  yawning  landlord. 

“ Morgen  ! Didn’t  hear  d’  drain  oncet.  Dem  boys  geeps 
me  up  zo  spate.  Gom  right  in.” 

Philip  was  shown  into  a dirty  bar-room.  It  was  a small 
room,  with  a stove  in  the  middle,  set  in  a long  shallow  box 
of  sand,  for  the  benefit  of  the  spitters,”  a bar  across  one  end 
— a mere  counter  with  a sliding  glass-case  behind  it  contain- 
ing a few  bottles  having  ambitious  labels,  and  a wash-sink  in 
one  corner.  On  the  walls  were  the  bright  yellow  and  black 
handbills  of  a traveling  circus,  with  pictures  of  acrobats  in 
human  pyramids,  horses  fiying  in  long  leaps  through  the  air, 
and  sylph-like  women  in  a paradisaic  costume,  balancing 
themselves  upon  the  tips  of  their  toes  on  the  bare  backs  of 
frantic  and  plunging  steeds,  and  kissing  their  hands  to  the 
spectators  meanwhile. 

As  Ihilip  did  not  desire  a room  at  that  hour,  he  was  invi- 
ted to  wash  himself  at  the  nasty  sink,  a feat  somewhat  easier 
than  drying  his  face,  for  the  towel  that  hung  in  a roller  over 
the  sink  was  evidently  as  much  a fixture  as  the  sink  itself,  and 
belonged,  like  the  suspended  brush  and  comb,  to  the  traveling 
public.  Philip  managed  to  complete  his  toilet  by  the  use  of 
his  pocket-handkerchief,  and  declining  the  hospitality  of  the 
landlord,  implied  in  the  remark,  “You  won’d  dake  notin’  ? ” 
he  went  into  the  open  air  to  wait  for  breakfast. 

The  • country  he  saw  was  wild  but  not  picturesque.  The 
mountain  before  him  might  be  eight  hundred  feet  high,  and 
was  only  a portion  of  a long  unbroken  range,  savagely  wood- 
ed, which  followed  the  stream.  Behind  the  hotel,  and  across 
the  brawling  brook,  was  another  level-topped,  wooded  range 
exactly  like  it.  Ilium  itself,  seen  at  a glance,  was  old  enough 
to  be  dilapidated,  and  if  it  had  gained  anything  by  being 
made  a wood  and  water  station  of  the  new  railroad,  it  was 
only  a new  sort  of  grime  and  rawness.  P.  Dusenheimer, 
standing  in  the  door  of  his  uninviting  groggery,  w^hen  the 
trains  stopped  for  water,  never  received  from  the  traveling  pub- 
lic any  patronage  except  facetious  remarks  upon  his  personal 


A CALL  TO  BREAKFAST. 


271 


appearance.  Perhaps  a thousand  times  he  had  heard  the  remark, 
Ilium  fuit^'‘  followed  in  most  instances  by  a hail  to  him- 
self as  JEneas,”  with  the  inquiry  “Where  is  old  Anchises  ? ” 
At  first  he  had  replied,  “ Dere  ain’t  no  such  man ; ” but  irrita- 
ted by  its  senseless  repetition,  he  had  latterly  dropped  into  the 
formula  of,  “You  be  dam.” 

Philip  was  recalled  from  the  contemplation  of  Ilium  by  the 
rolling  and  growling  of  the  gong  within  the  hotel,  the  din 
and  clamor  increasing  till  the  house  was  apparently  unable  to 
contain  it,  when  it  burst  out  of  the  front  door  and  informed 
the  world  that  breakfast  was  on  the  table. 

The  dining  room  was  long,  low  and  narrow,  and  a narrow 
table  extended  its  whole  length.  Upon  this  was  spread  a 
cloth  which  from  appearance  might  have  been  as  long  in  use 
as  the  towel  in  the  bar-room.  Upon  the  table  was  the  usual 
service,  the  heavy,  much  nicked  stone  ware,  the  row  of  plated 
and  rusty  castors,  the  sugar  bowls  witli  the  zinc  tea-spoons 
sticking  up  in  them,  the  piles  of  yellow  biscuits,  the  dis- 
couraged-looking plates  of  butter.  The  landlord  waited,  and 
Philip  was  pleased  to  observe  the  change  in  his  manner.  In 
the  bar-room  he  was  the  conciliatory  landlord.  Standing  behind 
his  guests  at  table,  he  had  an  air  of  peremptory  patronage, 


A PLEASING  LANDLORD, 


and  the  voice  in  which  he  shot  Out  the  inquiry,  as  he  seized 
Philip’s  plate,  “ Beefsteak  or  liver?  ” quite  took  away  Philip's 
power  of  choice.  He  begged  for  a glass  of  milk,  after  trying 


272 


PHILIP  IN  THE  HAKNESS, 


that  green  hued  compound  called  coffee,  and  made  his  break- 
fast out  of  that  and  some  hard  crackers  which  seemed  to  have 
been  imported  into  Ilium  before  the  introduction  of  the  iron 
horse,  and  to  have  withstood  a ten  years  siege  of  regular 
boarders,  Greeks  and  others. 

The  land  that  Philip  had  come  to  look  at  was  at  least  five 
miles  distant  from  Ilium  station.  A corner  of  it  touched  the 
railroad,  but  the  rest  was  pretty  much  an  unbroken  wilderness, 
eight  or  ten  thousand  acres  of  rough  country,  most  of  it  such 
a mountain  range  as  he  saw  at  Ilium. 

His  first  step  was  to  hire  three  woodsmen  to  accompany" 
him.  By  their  help  he  built  a log  hut,  and  established  a 
camp  on  the  land,  and  then  began  his  explorations,  mapping 


down  his  survey  as 
he  went  along,  no- 
ting the  timber,  and 
the  lay  of  the  land,, 
and  making  superfi- 
cial observations  as 
to  the  prospect  of 
coal. 

PHILIP  HIRED  THREE  WOODSMEN.  The  Hudlord  at 

Ilium  endeavored  to  persuade  Philip  to  hire  the  ser- 
vices of  a witch-hazel  professor  of  that  region,  who  could 
walk  over  the  land  with  his  wand  and  tell  him  infallibly 
whether  it  contained  coal,  and  exactly  where  the  strata  ran. 
But  Philip  preferred  to  trust  to  his  own  study  of  the  country, 


MINING  OPERATIONS. 


273 


and  his  knowledge  of  the  geological  formation.  He  spent  a 
month  in  traveling  over  the  land  and  making  calculations ; 
and  made  up  his  mind  that  a fine  vein  of  coal  ran  through  , 
the  mountain  about  a mile  from  the  railroad,  and  that  the 
lace  to  run  in  a tunnel  was  half  way  towards  its  summit. 

Acting  with  his  usual  promptness,  Philip,  with  the  consent 
of  Mr.  Bolton,  broke  ground  there  at  once,  and,  before  snow 
came,  had  some  rude  buildings  up,  and  w^as  ready  for  active 
operations  in  the  spring.  It  was  true  that  there  were  no  out- 
croppings of  coal  at  the  place,  and  the  people  at  Ilium  said 
he  “ mought  as  well  dig  for  plug  terbaccer  there ; ” but  Philip 
had  great  faith  in  the  uniformity  of  nature’s  operations  in 
ages  past,  and  he  had  no  doubt  that  he  should  strike  at  this 
spot  the  rich  vein  that  had  made  the  fortune  of  the  Golden 
Briar  Company. 


18- 


CHAPTER  XXX. 


— “ Gran  pensier  volgo ; e,  se  tu  lui  secondi, 

Seguiranno  gli  effetti  alle  speranze: 

Tessi  la  tela,  ch’  io  ti  mostro  ordita, 

Di  canto  vecchio  esecutrice  ardita.” 

“ Belle  domna  vostre  socors 

M’agra  mestier,  s’a  vos  plagues.”  B.  de  Ventador. 

OXCE  more  Louise  had  good  news  from  her  Washington — 
Senator  Dilworthy  was  going  to  sell  the  Tennessee  Land 
to  the  government ! Louise  told  Laura  in  confidence.  She 
had  told  her  parents,  too,  and  also  several  bosom  friends  ; but 
all  of  these  people  had  simply  looked  sad  when  they  heard 
the  news,  except  Laura.  Laura’s  face  suddenly  brightened 
under  it — only  for  an  instant,  it  is  true,  but  poor  Louise  was 
grateful  for  even  that  fleeting  ray  of  encouragement.  When 
.next  Laura  was  alone,  she  fell  into  a train  of  thought  some- 
thing like  this : 

“ If  the  Senator  has  really  taken  hold  of  this  matter,  I may 
look  for  that  invitation  to  his  house  at  any  moment.  I am 
perishing  to  go  ! I do  long  to  know  whether  I am  only  sim- 
ply a large-sized  pigmy  among  these  pigmies  here,  who  tum- 
ble over  so  easily  when  one  strikes  them,  or  whether  I am 
really — Her  thoughts  drifted  into  other  channels,  for  a 
season.  Then  she  continued : — He  said  I could  be  useful 

274 


THE  SENATOR  SENDS  LAURA  AID  AND  COMFORT.  275 


in  the  great  cause  of  philanthropy,  and  help  in  the  blessed 
work  of  uplifting  the  poor  and  the  ignorant,  if  he  found  it 
feasible  to  take  hold  of  our  Land.  Well,  that  is  neither  here 
nor  there  ; what  I want,  is  to  go  to  Washington  and  find  out 
what  I am.  I want  money,  too;  and  if  one  may  judge  by 
what  she  hears,  there  are  chances  there  for  a — .”  For  a fas- 
cinating woman,  she  was  going  to  say,  perhaps,  but  she  did 
not. 

Along  in  the  fall  the  invitation  came,  sure  enough.  It 
came  officially  through  brother  Washington,  the  private  Sec- 
retary, who  appended  a postscript  that  was  brimming  with 
delight  over  the  prospect  of  seeing  the  Duchess  again.  He 
said  it  would  be  happiness  enough  to  look  upon  lier  face  once 
more — it  would  be  almost  too  much  happiness  when  to  it  was 
added  the  fact  that  she  would  bring  messages  with  her  that 
were  fresh  from  Louise’s  lips. 

In  Washington’s  letter  were  several  important  enclosures. 
For  instance,  there  was  the  Senator’s  check  for  $2,000 — “to 
buy  suitable  clothing  in  Hew  York  with  ! ” It  was  a loan  to 
be  refunded  when  the  Land  was  sold.  Two  thousand — this 
was  fine  indeed.  Louise’s  father  was  called  rich,  but  Laura 
doubted  if  Louise  had  ever  had  $100  worth  of  new  clothing 
at  one  time  in  her  life.  With  the  check  came  two  through 
tickets — good  on  the  railroad  from  Hawkeye  to  Washington  via 
New  York — and  they  were  “ dead-head  ” tickets,  too,  which 
had  been  given  to  Senator  Dilworthy  by  the  railway  com- 
panies. Senators  and  representatives  were  paid  thousands  of 
dollars  by  the  government  for  traveling  expenses,  but  they 
always  traveled  “ dead-head  ” both  ways,  and  then  did  as  any 
honorable,  high-minded  men  would  naturally  do — declined  to 
receive  the  mileage  tendered  them  by  the  government.  The 
Senator  had  plenty  of  railway  passes,  and  could  easily  spare 
two  to  Laura — one  for  herself  and  one  for  a male  escort. 
Washington  suggested  that  she  get  some  old  friend  of  the 
family  to  come  with  her,  and  said  the  Senator  would  “ dead- 
head ” him  home  again  as  soon  as  he  had  grown  tired  of  the 


276 


COL.  SELLERS’  OPINION  OE  HARRY. 


sights  of  the  capital.  Laura  thought  the  thing  over.  At  first 
she  was  pleased  with  the  idea,  but  presently  she  began  to  feel 
difierently  about  it.  Finally  she  said,  “ No,  our  staid,  steady- 
going Hawkeye  friends’  notions  and  mine  differ  about  some 
things — they  respect  me,  now,  and  I respect  them — better 
leave  it  so — I will  go  alone ; I am  not  afraid  to  travel  by 
myself.”  And  so  communing  with  herself,  she  left  the  house 
for  an  afternoon  walk. 

Almost  at  the  door  she  met  Col.  Sellers.  She  told  him 
about  her  invitation  to  Washington. 

Bless  me  ! ” said  the  Colonel.  I have  about  made  up 
my  mind  to  go  there  myself.  You  see  we’ve  got  to  get 
another  appropriation  through,  and  the  Company  want  me  to 
come  east  and  put  it  through  Congress.  Harry’s  there,  and 
he’ll  do  what  he  can,  of  course; 'and  Harry’s  a good  fellow 
and  always  does  the  very  best  he  knows  how,  but  then  he’s 
young — rather  young  for  some  parts  of  such  work,  you  know 
— and  besides  he  talks  too  much,  talks  a good  deal  to(ymuch ; 
and  sometimes  he  appears  to  be  a little  bit  visionary,  too,  I 
think — the  worst  thing  in  the  world  for  a business  man. 
A man  like  that  always  exposes  his  cards,  sooner  or  later. 
This  sort  of  thing  wants  an  old,  quiet,  steady  hand — wants  an 
old  cool  head,  you  know,  that  knows  men,  through  and 
through,  and  is  used  to  large  operations.  I’m  expecting  my 
salary,  and  also  some  dividends  from  the  company,  and  if 
they  get  along  in  time.  I’ll  go  along  with  you  Laura — take 
you  under  my  wing — you  mustn’t  travel  alone.  Lord  I wish 
I had  the  money  right  now. — But  there’ll  be  plenty  soon — 
plenty.” 

Laura  reasoned  with  herself  that  if  the  kindly,  simple- 
hearted  Colonel  was  going  anyhow,  what  could  she  gain  by 
traveling  alone  and  throwing  away  his  company  ? So  she 
told  him  she  accepted  his  offer  gladly,  gratefully.  She  said 
it  would  be  the  greatest  of  favors  if  he  would  go  with  her 
and  protect  her — not  at  his  own  expense  as  far  as  railway 
fares  were  concerned,  of  course ; she  could  not  expect  him  to 


LAUEA  AND  COL.  SELLERS  VISIT  WASHINGTON.  277 


put  himself  to  so  much  trouble  for  her  and  pay  his  fare 
besides.  But  he  wouldn’t  hear  of  her  paying  his  fare — it 
would  he  only  a pleasure  to  him  to  serve  her.  Laura  insisted 
on  furnishing  the  tickets;  and  finally,  when  argument  failed, 
she  said  the  tickets  cost  neither  her  nor  any  one  else  a cent — 
she  had  two  of  them — she  needed  but  one — and  if  he  would 
not  take  the  other  she  would  not  go  with  him.  That  settled 
the  matter.  He  took  the  ticket.  Laura  was  glad  that  she 
had  the  check  for  new  clothing,  for  she  felt  very  certain  of 
being  able  to  get  the  Colonel  to  borrow  a little  of  the  money 
to  pay  hotel  bills  with,  here  and  there. 

She  wrote  Washington  to  look  for  her  and  CoL  Sellers 
toward  the  end  of  November ; and  at  about  the  time  set  the 
two  travelers  arrived  safe  in  the  capital  of  the  nation,  sure 
enough. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 


Deh ! ben  f6ra  all’  incontro  nfficio  uman<v 
E bed  n’avresti  tu  gioja  e diletto, 

8e  la  pietosa  tua  medica  mano 
Awicinassi  al  valoroso  petto. 

Tasta, 

She,  gracious  lady,  yet  no  paines  did  spare 
To  doe  him  ease,  or  doe  him  remedy : 

Many  restoratives  of  vertues  rare 
And  costly  cordialles  she  did  apply, 

To  mitigate  his  stubborne  malady. 

Spenser's  Faerie  Queem. 

Mr.  henry  BRIERLY  was  exceedingly  busy  in  New 
York, so  he  wrote  Col.  Sellers,  but  he  would  drop  every- 
thing and  go  to  Washington. 

The  Colonel  believed  that  Harry  was  the  prince  of  lobby- 
ists, a little  too  sanguine,  may  be,  and  given  to  speculation^ 
but,  then,  he  knew  everybody ; the  Columbus  River  naviga- 
tion scheme  was  got  through  almost  entirely  by  his  aid.  He 
was  needed  now  to  help  through  another  scheme,  a benevolent 
scheme  in  which  Col.  Sellers,  through  the  Hawkinses,  had  a 
deep  interest. 

“ I donT  care,  you  know,’’  he  wrote  to  Harry,  “ so  much 
about  the  niggroes.  But  if  the  government  will  buy  this 
land,  it  will  set  up  the  Hawkins  family — make  Laura  an 
heiress — and  I shouldn’t  wonder  if  Beriah  Sellers  would  set 
up  his  carriage  again.  Dil worthy  looks  at  it  different,  of 
course.  He’s  all  for  philanthropy,  for  benefiting  the  colored 

278 


THE  BOLTONS. 


279 


race.  There’s  old  Balaam,  was  in  the  Interior — used  to  be 
the  Bev.  Orson  Balaam  of  Iowa — he’s  made  the  riffle  on  the 
Injun ; great  Injun  pacificator  and  land  dealer.  Balaam’s 
got  the  Injun  to  himself, 
and  I suppose  that  Sena- 
tor Dilworthy  feels  that 
there  is  nothing  left  him 
hut  the  colored  man.  I do 
reckon  he  is  the  best  friend 
the  colored  man  has  got 
in  Washington.” 

Though  Harry  was  in  a 
hurry  to  reach  W ashington, 
he  stopped  in  Philadelphia, 
and  prolonged  his  visit  day 
after  day,  greatly  to  the 
detriment  of  his  business  both  in  Hew  York  and  Wash- 
ington. The  society  at  the  Bolton’s  might  have  been 
a valid  excuse  for  neglecting  business  much  more  impoi’- 
tant  than  his.  Philip  was  there ; he  was  a partner  with 
Mr.  Bolton  now  in  the  new  coal  venture,  concerning 
which  there  was  much  to  be  arranged  in  preparation  for  the 
Spring  work,  and  Philip  lingered  week  after  week  in  the 
hospitable  house.  Alice  was  making  a winter  visit.  Buth 
only  went  to  town  twice  a week  to  attend  lectures,  and  the 
household  was  quite  to  Mr.  Bolton’s  taste,  for  he  liked  the 
cheer  of  company  and  something  going  on  evenings.  Harry 
was  cordially  asked  to  bring  his  traveling-bag  there,  and  he 
did  not  need  urging  to  do  so.  Hot  even  the  thought  of  see- 
ing Laura  at  the  capital  niade  him  restless  in  the  society  of 
the  two  young  ladies ; two  birds  in  hand  are  worth  one  in  the 
bush  certainly. 

Philip  was  at  home — he  sometimes  wished  he  were  not  so 
much  so.  He  felt  that  too  much  or  not  enough  was  taken 
for  granted.  Buth  had  met  him,  when  he  first  came, 
with  a cordial  frankness,  and  her  manner  continued  entirely 


280 


LOVE  MAKING. 


■unrestrained.  She  neither  sought  his  company  nor  avoided  it, 
and  this  perfectly  level  treatment  irritated  him  more  than 
any  other  could  have  done.  It  was  impossible  to  advance 
much  in  love-making  with  one  who  offered  no  obstacles,  had 
no  concealments  and  no  embarrassments,  and  whom  any 
approach  to  sentimentality  would  be  quite  likely  to  set  into  a 
fit  of  laughter. 

“ Why,  Phil,”  she  would  say,  what  puts  you  in  the  dumps 
to  day  ? You  are  as  solemn  as  the  upper  bench  in  Meeting. 
I shall  have  to  call  Alice  to  raise  your  spirits  ; my  presence 
seems  to  depress  you.” 

“ It’s  not  your  presence,  but  your  absence  when  you  are 
present,”  began  Philip,  dolefully,  with  the  idea  that  he  was 
saying  a rather  deep  thing.  ‘‘  But  you  won’t  understand 
me.” 

“ 1^0,  I confess  I cannot.  If  you  really  are  so  low  as  to 
think  I am  absent  when  I am  present,  it’s  a frightful  case  of 
aberration ; I shall  ask  father  to  bring  out  Dr.  Jackson, 
Does  Alice  appear  to  be  present  when  she  is  absent  ?” 

“ Alice  has  some  human  feeling,  anyway.  She  cares  for 
something  besides  musty  books  and  dry  bones.  I think, 
Path,  when  I die,”  said  Philip,  intending  to  be  very  grim 
and  sarcastic,  “I’ll  leave  you  my  skeleton.  AYu  might  like 
that.” 

“ It  might  be  more  cheerful  than  you  are  at  times,”  Puth 
replied  with  a laugh.  “ But  you  mustn’t  do  it  without  con- 
sulting Alice.  She  might  not  like  it.” 

“ I don’t  know  why  you  should  bring  Alice  up  on  every 
occasion.  Do  you  think  I am  in  love  with  her  ?” 

“ Bless  you,  no.  It  never  entered  my  head.  Are  you ! 
The  thought  of  Philip  Sterling  in  love  is  too  comical.  I thought 
you  were  only  in  love  with  the  Ilium  coal  mine,  which  you 
and  father  talk  about  half  the  time.” 

This  is  a specimen  of  Philip’s  wooing.  Confound  the  girl, 
he  would  say  to  himself,  why  does  she  never  tease  Harry  and 
that  young  Shepley  who  comes  here  ? 

How  differently  Alice  treated  him.  She  at  least  never 


SISTERLY  CONSOLATION. 


281 


mocked  him,  and  it  was  a relief  to  talk  with  one  who  had 
some  sympathy  with  him.  And  he  did  talk  to  her,  by  the 
hour,  about  Ruth.  The  blundering  fellow  poured  all  his 
doubts  and  anxieties  into  her  ear,  as  if  she  had  been  the 
impassive  occupant  of  one  of  those  little  wooden  confessionals 
in  the  Cathedral  on  Logan  Square.  Has  a confessor,  if  she  is 
young  and  pretty,  any  feeling  ? Does  it  mend  the  matter  by 
calling  her  your  sister  ? 

Philip  called  Alice  his  good  sister,  and  talked  to  her  about 
love  and  marriage,  meaning  Ruth,  as  if  sisters  could  by  no 
possibility  have  any  personal  concern  in  such  things.  Did 
Ruth  ever  speak  of  him  ? Did  she  think  Ruth  cared  for 
him  ? Did  Ruth  care  for  anybody  at  Fallkill  ? Did  she 
care  for  anything  except  her  profession  ? And  so  on. 

Alice  was  loyal  to  Ruth,  and  if  she  knew  anything  she  did 
not  betray  her  friend.  She  did  not,  at  any  rate,  give  Philip 
too  much  encouragement.  What  woman,  under  the  circum- 
stances, would  ? 

I can  tell  you  one  thing,  Philip,”  she  said,  if  ever  Ruth 
Holton  loves,  it  will  be  with  her  whole  soul,  in  a depth  of 
passion  that  will  sweep  everything  before  it  and  surprise  even 
herself.” 

A remark  that  did  not  much  console  Philip,  who  imagined 
that  only  some  grand  heroism  could  unlock  the  sweetness  of 
such  a heart ; and  Philip  feared  that  he  wasn’t  a hero.  He 
did  not  know  out  of  what  materials  a woman  can  construct  a 
hero,  when  she  is  in  the  creative  mood. 

Harry  skipped  into  this  society  with  his  usual  lightness  and 
gaiety.  His  good  nature  was  inexhaustible,  and  though  he 
liked  to  relate  his  own  exploits,  he  had  a little  tact  in  adapt- 
ing himself  to  the  tastes  of  his  hearers.  He  was  not  long  in 
finding  out  that  Alice  liked  to  hear  about  Philip,  and  Harry 
launched  out  into  the  career  of  his  friend  in  the  West,  with  a 
prodigality  of  invention  that  would  have  astonished  the  chief 
actor.  He  was  the  most  generous  fellow  in  the  world,  and 
picturesque  conversation  was  the  one  thing  in  which  he  never 
was  bankrupt.  With  Mr.  Bolton  he  was  the  serious  man  of 


282 


HARRY  AS  A QUAKER. 


business,  en  joying  the  confidence  of  many  of  the  monied  men 
in  New  York,  whom  Mr.  Bolton  knew,  and  engaged  with 
them  in  railway  schemes  and  government  contracts.  Philip, 
who  had  so  long  known  Harry,  never  could  make  up  his 
mind  that  Harry  did  not  himself  believe  that  he  was  a chief 
actor  in  all  these  large  operations  of  which  he  talked  so 
much. 

Harry  did  not  neglect  to  endeavor  to  make  himself  agree- 
able to  Mrs.  Bolton,  by  paying  great  attention  to  the  chil- 
dren, and  by  professing  the  warmest  interest  in  the  Friends’' 
faith.  Jt  always  seemed  to  him  the  most  peaceful  religion; 
he  thought  it  must  be  much  easier  to  live  by  an  internal  light 
than  by  a lot  of  outward  rules  ; he  had  a dear  Quaker  aunt 
in  Providence  of  whom  Mrs.  Bolton  constantly  reminded 
him.  He  insisted  upon  going  with  Mrs.  Bolton  and  the  chil- 
dren to  the  Friends  Meeting  on  First  Hay,  when  Buth  and 
Alice  and  Philip,  world’s  j)eople,”  went  to  a church  in  town, 
and  he  sat  through  the  hour  of  silence  with  his  hat  on,  in 
most  exemplary  patience.  In  short,  this  amazing  actor  suc- 
ceeded so  well  with  Mrs.  Bolton,  that  she  said  to  Philip  one 
day, 

“ Thy  friend,  Henry  Brierly,  appears  to  be  a very  worldly- 
minded  young  man.  Hoes  he  believe  in  anything  ? ” 

“ Oh,  yes,”  said  Philip  laughing,  ‘‘  he  believes  in  more 
things  than  any  other  person  1 ever  saw.” 

To  E-uth  Harry  seemed  to  be  very  congenial.  He  was  never 
moody  for  one  thing,  but  lent  himself  with  alacrity  to  what- 
ever her  fancy  was.  He  was  gay  or  grave  as  the  need  might 
be.  No  one  apparently  could  enter  more  fully  into  her  plans- 
for  an  independent  career. 

‘‘My  father,”  said  Harry,  “was  bred  a physician,  and 
practiced  a little  before  he  went  into  Wall  street.  I always 
had  a leaning  to  the  study.  There  was  a skeleton  hanging 
in  the  closet  of  my  father’s  study  when  I was  a boy,  that  I 
used  to  dress  up  in  old  clothes.  Oh,  I got  quite  familiar  with 
the  human  frame.” 

“You  must  have,”  said  Philip.  “Was  that  where  you 


HARRY  THINKS  OF  STUDYING  MEDICINE. 


28S 


learned  to  play  the  bones  ? He  is  a master  of  those  musical 
instruments,  Huth  ; lie  plays  well  enough  to  go  on  the  stage.” 

Philip  hates  science  of  any  kind,  and  steady  application,” 
retorted  Harry.  He  didn’t  fancy  Philip’s  banter,  and  when 
the  latter  had  gone  out,  and  Ruth  asked. 

Why  don’t  you  take  up  medicine,  Mr.  Brierly  ? ” 

Harry  said,  “ I have  it  in  mind.  I believe  I would  begin 
attending  lectures  this  winter  if  it  weren’t  for  being  wanted 
in  Washington.  But  medicine  is  particularly  women’s  prov- 
ince.” 

Why  so  ? ” asked  Ruth,  rather  amused. 

W ell,  the  treatment  of  disease  is  a good  deal  a matter  of 
sympathy.  A woman’s  intuition  is  better  than  a mail’s^ 
Nobody  knows  anything,  really,  you  know,  and  a woman  can 
guess  a good  deal  nearer  than  a man.” 

“ You  are  very  complimentary  to  my  sex.” 

But,”  said  Harry  frankly,  “ I should  want  to  choose  my 
doctor ; an  ugly  woman  would  ruin  me,  the  disease  would  be 
sure  to  strike  in  and  kill  me  at  sight  of  her.  I think  a pretty 
physician,  with  engaging  manners,  would  coax  a fellow  to 
live  through  almost  anything.” 

I am  afraid  you  are  a scoffer,  Mr.  Brierly.” 

“ On  the  contrary,  I am'  quite  sincere.  Wasn’t  it  old 
what’s  his  name  ? that  said  only  the  beautiful  is  useful  ? ” 
Whether  Ruth  was  anything  more  than  diverted  with 
Harry’s  company,  Philip  could  not  determine.  He  scorned 
at  any  rate  to  advance  his  own  interest  by  any  disparaging 
communications  about  Harry,  both  because  he  could  not  help 
liking  the  fellow  himself,  and  because  he  may  have  known 
that  he  could  not  more  surely  create  a sympathy  for  him  in 
Ruth’s  mind.  That  Ruth  was  in  no  danger  of  any  serious 
impression  he  felt  pretty  sure,  felt  certain  of  it  when  he 
reflected  upon  her  severe  occupation  with  her  profession. 
Hang  it,  he  would  say  to  himself,  she  is  nothing  but  pure 
intellect  anyway.  And  he  only  felt  uncertain  of  it  when  she 
was  in  one  of  her  moods  of  raillery,  with  mocking  mischief 
in  her  eyes.  At  such  times  she  seemed  to  prefer  Harry’s 


EUTll  HAS  A PREMONITION. 


society  to  liis.  When  Philip  was  miserable  about  this,  he 
always  took  refuge  with  Alice,  who  was  never  moody,  and 
who  generally  laughed  him  out  of  his  sentimental  nonsense. 
He  felt  at  his  ease  with  Alice,  and  was  never  in  want  of 
something  to  talk  about ; and  he  could  not  account  for  the 
fact  that  he  was  so  often  dull  with  Puth,  with  whom,  of  all 
persons  in  the  world,  he  wanted  to  appear  at  his  best. 

Harry  was  entirely  satisfied  with  his  own  situation.  A 
bird  of  passage  is  always  at  its  ease,  having  no  house  to  build, 
mid  no  responsibility.  He  talked  freely  with  Philip  about 
Puth,  an  almighty  fine  girl,  he  said,  but  what  the  deuce  she 
wanted  to  study  medicine  for,  he  couldn’t  see. 

There  was  a concert  one  night  at  the  Musical  Fund  Hall 
and  the  four  had  arranged  to  go  in  and  return  by  the  Ger- 
mantown cars.  It  was  Philip’s  plan,  who  had  engaged  the 
seats,  and  promised  himself  an  evening  with  Puth,  walking 
with  her,  sitting  by  her  in  the  hall,  and  enjoying  the  feeling 
of  protecting  that  a man  always  has  of  a woman  in  a public 
place.  He  was  fond  of  music,  too,  in  a sympathetic  way ; at 
least,  he  knew  that  Puth’s  delight  in  it  would  be  enough  for 
liim. 

Perhaps  he  meant  to  take  advantage  of  the  occasion  to  say 
some  very  serious  things.  His  love  for  Puth  was  no  secret 
to  Mrs.  Bolton,  and  he  felt  almost  sure  that  he  should  have  no 
43pposition  in  the  family.  Mrs.  Bolton  had  been  cautious 
in  what  she  said,  but  Philip  inferred  everything  from  her 
reply  to  his  own  questions,  one  day,  Has  thee  ever  spoken 
thy  mind  to  Puth  ?” 

Why  shouldn’t  he  speak  his  mind,  and  end  his  doubts  ? 
Puth  had  been  more  tricksy  than  usual  that  day,  and  in  a 
flow  of  spirits  quite  inconsistent,  it  would  seem,  in  a young 
lady  devoted  to  grave  studies. 

Had  Puth  a premonition  of  Philip’s  intention,  in  his  man- 
ner ? It  may  be,  for  Avhen  the  girls  came  down  stairs,  ready 
to  walk  to  the  cars,  and  met  Philip  and  Harry  in  the  hall, 
Huth  said,  laughing. 

The  two  tallest  must  walk  together,”  and  before  Philip 


FIRE!  FIRE!  FIRE! 


285 


knew  liow  it  happened  Kuth  had  taken  Harry’s  arm,  and  his 
evening  was  spoiled.  He  had  too  much  politeness  and  good 
sense  and  kindness  to  show  in  his  manner  that  he  was  hit- 
So  he  said  to  Harry, 

That’s  your  disadvantage  in  being  short.”  And  he  gave 
Alice  no  reason  to  feel  during  the  evening  that  she  would 
not  have  been  his  first  choice  for  the  excursion.  But  he  was 
none  the  less  chagrined,  and  not  a little  angry  at  the  turn  the 
affair  took. 

The  Hall  was  crowded  with  the  fashion  of  the  town. — 
The  concert  was  one  of  those  fragmentary  drearinesses  that 
people  endure  because  they  are  fashionable  ; tours  deforce  on 
the  piano,  and  fragments  from  operas,  which  have  no  mean- 
ing without  the  setting,  with  weary  pauses  of  waiting  between ; 
there  is  the  comic  basso  who  is  so  amusing  and  on  such  famil- 
iar terms  with  the  audience,  and  always  sings  the  Barber ; the 
attitudinizing  tenor,  with  his  languishing  Oh,  Summer 
Hight the  soprano  with  her  ‘‘  Batti  Batti,”  who  warbles 
and  trills  and  runs  and  fetches  her  breath,  and  ends  with  a 
noble  scream  that  brings  down  a tempest  of  applause  in  the 
midst  of  which  she  backs  off  the  stage  smiling  and  bowing. 
It  was  this  sort  of  concert,  and  Philip  was  thinkijg  that  it 
was  the  most  stupid  one  he  ever  sat  through,  when  just  as 
the  soprano  was  in  the  midst  of  that  touching  ballad, 
‘‘  Coinin’  thro’  the  Bye  ” (the  soprano  always  sings  ‘‘  Cornin’ 
thro’  the  Bye  ” on  an  encore — the  Black  Swan  used  to  make 
it  irresistible,  Philip  remembered,  with  her  arch,  If  a body 
kiss  a body  ”)  there  was  a cry  of  Fire ! 

The  hall  is  long  and  narrow,  and  there  is  only  one  place 
of  egress.  Instantly  the  audience  was  on  its  feet,  and  a rush 
began  for  the  door.  Men  shouted,  women  screamed,  and 
panic  seized  the  swaying  mass.  A second’s  thought  would 
have  convinced  every  one  that  getting  out  was  impossible, 
and  that  the  only  effect  of  a rush  would  be  to  crush  people 
to  death.  But  a second’s  thought  was  not  given.  A few  cried 
“ Sit  down,  sit  down,”  but  the  mass  was  turned  towards  the. 
door.  W omen  were  down  and  trampled  on  in  the  aisles,  and 


S86 


PHILIP  FACES  THE  PANIC-STRUCK  CROWD. 


stout  men,  utterly  lost  to  self-control,  were  mounting  tlie 
benches,  as  if  to  run  a race  over  the  mass  to  the  entrance. 

Philip  who  had  forced  the  gilds  to  keep  their  seats  saw,  in 
a flash,  the  new  danger,  and  sprang  to  avert  it.  In  a second 
more  those  infuriated  men  would  be  over  the  benches  and 
crushing  Puth  and  Alice  under  their  boots.  He  leaped  upon 
the  bench  in  front  of  them  and  struck  out  before  him  with  all 
Ms  might,  felling  one  man  who  was  rushing  on  him,  and 


THE  FIRE  PANIC. 


checking  for  an  instant  the  movement,  or  rather  parting  it, 
and  causing  it  to  flow  on  either  side  of  him.  But  it  was 
only  for  an  instant ; the  pressure  behind  was  too  great,  and 
the  next  Philip  was  dashed  backwards  over  the  seat. 


If 


KUTH  ASSISTS  IN  DRESSING  PHILLIP’S  ARM. 


RUTH’S  FIRST  PATIENT. 


287 


And  yet  that  instant  of  arrest  had  probably  saved  the  girls, 
for  as  Philip  fell,  the  orchestra  struck  up  “ Yankee  Doodle  ” 
in  the  liveliest  manner.  The  familiar  tune  caught  the  ear 
of  the  mass,  which  paused  in  wonder,  and  gave  the  conduc- 
tor’s voice  a chance  to  be  heard — “ It’s  a false  alarm !” 

The  tumult  was  over  in  a minute,  and  the  next,  laughter  was 
heard,  and  not  a few  said,  ‘‘I  knew  it  wasn’t  anything.” 

What  fools  people  are  at  such  a time.” 

The  concert  was  over,  however.  A good  many  people 
were  hurt,  some  of  them  seriously,  and  among  them  Philip 
Sterling  was  found  bent  across  the  seat,  insensible,  with  his 
left  arm  hanging  limp  and  a bleeding  wound  on  his  head. 

When  he  was  carried  into  the  air  he  revived,  and  said  it 
was  nothing.  A surgeon  was  called,  and  it  was  thought  best 
to  drive  at  once  to  the  Bolton’s,  the  surgeon  suj^porting  Philip, 
who  did  not  speak  tne  whole  way.  His  arm  was  set  and  his 
head  dressed,  and  the  surgeon  said  he  would  come  round  all 
right  in  his  mind  by  morning ; he  was  very  weak.  Alice  who 
w^as  not  much  frightened  while  the  panic  lasted  in  the  hall, 
was  very  much  unnerved  by  seeing  Philip  so  pale  and  bloody. 
Puth  assisted  the  surgeon  with  the  utmost  coolness  and  with 
skillful  hands  helped  to  dress  Philip’s  wounds.  And  there 
was  a certain  intentness  and  fierce  energy  in  what  she  did  that 
might  have  revealed  something  to  Philip  if  he  had  been  in 
his  senses. 

But  he  was  not,  or  he  would  not  have  murmured  Let 
Alice  do  it,  she  is  not  too  tall.” 

It  was  Euth’s  first  case. 


CHAPTER  XXXn. 


Lo,  swiche  sleightes  and  subtiltees 
In  women  ben ; for  ay  as  besy  as  bees 
Ben  they  us  sely  men  for  to  deceive, 
And  from  a sothe  wol  they  ever  weive. 


Chaucer, 


ASHINGTON’S  delight  in  his  beautiful  sister  was 


T T measureless.  He  said  that  she  had  always  been  the 
queenliest  creature  in  the  land,  but  that  she  was  only  common- 
place before,  compared  to  what  she  was  now,  so  extraordinary 
was  the  improvement  wrought  by  rich  fashionable  attire. 

“ But  your  criticisms  are  too  full  of  brotherly  partiality  to 
be  depended  on,  Washington.  Other  people  will  judge  dif- 
ferently.” 

‘‘  Indeed  they  won’t.  You’ll  see.  There  will  never  be  a 
woman  in  Washington  that  can  compare  with  you.  You’ll 
be  famous  within  a fortnight,  Laura.  Everybody  will  want 
to  know  you.  You  wait — you’ll  see.” 

Laura  wished  in  her  heart  that  the  prophecy  might  come 
true  ; and  privately  she  even  believed  it  might — for  she  had 
brought  all  the  women  whom  she  had  seen  since  she  left 
home  under  sharp  inspection,  and  the  result  had  not  been 
unsatisfactory  to  her. 

During  a week  or  two  Washington  drove  about  the  city 
every  day  with  her  and  familiarized  her  with  all  of  its  sali- 
ent features.  She  was  beginning  to  feel  very  much  at  home 
with  the  town  itself,  and  she  was  also  fast  acquiring  ease  with 


288 


LAURA  FINDS  HERSELF  BECOMING  FAMOUS.  289 


the  distinguished  people  she  met  at  the  Dilworthj  table,  and 
losing  what  little  of  country  timidity  she  had  brought  with 
her  from  Hawkey e.  She  noticed  with  secret  pleasure  the 
little  start  of  admiration  that  always  manifested  itself  in  the 
faces  of  the  guests  when  she  entered  the  drawing-room  arrayed 
in  evening  costume  : — she  took  comforting  note  of  the  fact 
.that  these  guests  directed  a very  liberal  share  of  their  conver- 
sation toward  her ; she  observed  with  surprise,  that  famous 
statesmen  and  soldiers  did  not  talk  like  gods,  as  a general 
thing,  but  said  rather  commonplace  things  for  the  most  part ; 
and  she  was  filled  with  gratification  to  discover  that  she,  on 
the  contrary,  was  making  a good  many  shrewd  speeches  and 
now  and  then  a really  brilliant  one,  and  furthermore,  that 
they  were  beginning  to  be  repeated  in  social  circles  about  the 
town. 

Congress  began  its  sittings,  and  every  day  or  two  Wash- 
ington escorted  her  to  the  galleries  set  apart  for  lady  mem- 
bers of  the  households  of  Senators  and  Hepresentatives.  Here 
was  a larger  field  and  a wider  competition,  but  still  she  saw 
that  many  eyes  were  uplifted  toward  her  face,  and  that  first 
one  person  and  then  another  called  a neighbor’s  attention  to 
her ; she  was  not  too  dull  to  perceive  that  the  speeches  of 
some  of  the  younger  statesmen  were  delivered  about  as  much 
and  perhaps  more  at  her  than  to  the  presiding  officer ; and 
she  was  not  sorry  to  see  that  the  dapper  young  Senator  from 
Iowa  came  at  once  and  stood  in  the  open  space  before  the 
president’s  desk  to  exhibit  his  feet  as  soon  as  she  entered  the 
gallery,  whereas  she  had  early  learned  from  common  report 
that  his  usual  custom  was  to  prop  them  on  his  desk  and  enjoy 
them  himseK  with  a selfish  disregard  of  other  people’s 
longings. 

Invitations  began  to  flow  in  upon  her  and  soon  she  was 
fairly  “ in  society.”  ‘‘The  season  ” was  now  in  full  bloom, 
and  the  first  select  reception  was  at  hand — that  is  to  say,  a 
reception  confined  to  invited  guests. 

Senator  Dilworthy  had  become  well  convinced,  by  this 

19- 


290 


THE  FIRST  RECEPTION. 


time,  that  his  judgment  of  the  country-bred  Missouri  girl 
had  not  deceived  him — it  was  plain  that  she  was  going  to  be 
a peerless  missionary  in  the  field  of  labor  he  designed  her  for, 
and  therefore  it  would  be  perfectly  safe  and  likewise  judicious 
to  send  her  forth  well  panoplied  for  her  work. — So  he  had 
added  new  and  still  richer  costumes  to  her  wardrobe,  and 
assisted  their  attractions  with  costly  jewelry — loans  on  the 
future  land  sale. 

This  first  select  reception  took  place  at  a cabinet  minister’s 
< — or  rather  a cabinet  secretary’s — mansion.  When  Laura 
and  the  Senator  arrived,  about  half  past  nine  or  ten  in  the 
evening,  the  place  was  already  pretty  well  crowded,  and  the 
white-gloved  negro  servant  at  the  door  was  still  receiving 
streams  of  guests. — The  drawing-rooms  were  brilliant  with 
gaslight,  and  as  hot  as  ovens.  The  host  and  hostess  stood 
just  within  the  door  of  entrance ; Laura  was  presented, 
and  then  she  passed  on  into  the  maelstrom  of  be-jeweled  and 
richly  attired  low-necked  ladies  and  white-kid-gloved  and  steel 
pen-coated  gentlemen — and  wherever  she  moved  she  was  fol- 
lowed by  a buzz  of  admiration  that  was  grateful  to  all  her 
senses — so  grateful,  indeed,  that  her  white  face  was  tinged 
and  its  beauty  heightened  by  a perceptible  suffusion  of  color. 
She  caught  such  remarks  as,  Who  is  she  ?”  “ Superb 

woman !”  “ That  is  the  new  beauty  from  the  west,”  etc.,  etc. 

Whenever  she  halted,  she  was  presently  surrounded  by 
Ministers,  Generals,  Congressmen,  and  all  manner  of  aristo- 
cratic people.  Introductions  followed,  aud  then  the  usual 
original  question,  “How  do  you  like  Washington,  Miss  Haw- 
kins ?”  supplemented  by  that  other  usual  original  question, 
“ Is  this  your  first  visit  ?” 

These  two  exciting  topics  being  exhausted,  conversation 
generally  drifted  into  calmer  channels,  only  to  be  interrupted 
at  frequent  intervals  by  new  introductions  and  new  inquiries 
as  to  how  Laura  liked  the  capital  and  whether  it  was 
her  first  visit  or  not.  And  thus  for  an  hour  or  more 
the  Duchess  moved  through  the  crush  in  a rapture  of  happi- 


her  side,  his  eyes  shouting  their  gratification,  so  to  speak : 

Oh,  this  is  a happiness  ! Tell  me,  my  dear  Miss  Hawkins — 

“ Sh ! I know  what  you  are  going  to  ask.  I do  like 
Washington — I like  it  ever  so  much!” 

‘‘  No,  but  I was  going  to  ask — ” 

“Yes,  I am  coming  to  it,  coming  to  it  as  fast  as  I can.  It 
is  my  first  visit.  I think  you  should  know  that  yourself.” 

And  straightway  a wave  of  the  crowd  swept  her  beyond 
his  reach. 

“Now  what  can  the  girl  mean?  Of  course  she  likes 
Washington — I’m  not  such  a dummy  as  to  have  to  ask  her 
that.  And  as  to  its  being  her  first  visit,  wliy  hang  it,  she . 
knows  that  I knew  it  was.  Does  she  think  I have  turned 


THE  REIGNING  BELLE.  291 

ness,  for  her  doubts  were  dead  and  gone,  now — she  knew  she 
■could  conquer  here.  A familiar  face  appeared  in  the  midst  of 
the  multitude  and  Harry  Brierly  fought  his  difficult  way  to 


THE  FIRST  RECEPTION. 


292 


HARRY  TRIES  A COUNTER  IRRITANT. 


idiot?  Curious  girl,  anyway.  But  how  they  do  swarm 
about  her!  She  is  the  reigning  belle  of  Washington  after 
this  night.  She’ll  know  five  hundred  of  the  heaviest  guns  in 
the  town  before  this  night’s  nonsense  is  over.  And  this 
isn’t  even  the  beginning.  Just  as  I used  to  say — she’ll  be 
a'card  in  the  matter  of — yes  sir  ! She  shall  turn  the  men’s 
heads  and  I’ll  turn  the  women’s  1 What  a team  that  will  be 
in  politics  here.  I wouldn’t  take  a quarter  of  a million  for 
what  I can  do  in  this  present  session — no  indeed  I wouldn’t. 
How,  here — I don’t  altogether  like  this.  That  insignificant 
secretary  of  legation  is — why,  she’s  smiling  on  him  as  if  he — • 
and  now  on  the  Admiral ! How  she’s  illuminating  that 
stuffy  Congressman  from  Massachusetts — vulgar  imgrammat- 
cal  shovel-maker — greasy  knave  of  spades.  I don’t  like 
this  sort  of  thing.  She  doesn’t  appear  to  be  much  distressed 
about  me — she  hasn’t  looked  this  way  once.  All  right,  my  bird 
of  Paradise,  if  it  suits  you,  go  on.  But  1 think  I know;  your 
sex.  I’ll  go  to  smiling  around  a little,  too,  and  see  what 
effect  that  will  have  on  you.” 

And  he  did  smile  around  a little,”  and  got  as  near  to  her 
as  he  could  to  watch  the  effect,  but  the  scheme  was  a failure 
— he  could  not  get  her  attention.  She  seemed  wholly  uncon- 
scious of  him,  and  so  he  could  not  flirt  with  any  spirit ; he 
could  only  talk  disjointedly ; he  could  not  keep  his  eyes  on 
the  charmers  he  talked  to  ; he  grew  irritable,  jealous,  and 
very  unhappy.  He  gave  up  his  enterprise,  leaned  his 
shoulder  against  a fluted  pilaster  and  pouted  while  he  kept 
watch  upon  Laura’s  every  movement.  His  other  shoulder 
stole  the  bloom  from  many  a lovely  cheek  that  brushed  him 
in  the  surging  crush,  but  he  noted  it  not.  He  was  too  busy 
cursing  himself  inwardly  for  being  an  egotistical  imbecile. 
An  hour  ago  he  had  thought  to  take  this  country  lass  under 
his  protection  and  show  her  “life”  and  enjoy  her  wonder  and 
delight — and  here  she  was,  immersed  in  the  marvel  up  to  her 
eyes,  and  just  a trifle  more  at  home  in  it  than  he  was  him- 
self. And  now  his  angry  comments  ran  on  again  : 

“How  she’s  sweetening  old  Brother  Balaam;  and  he — well 


HAKRY  GETS  INFORMATION. 


293 


lie  is  inviting  her  to  the  Congressional  prayer-meeting,  no 
doubt — better  let  old  Dilworthy  alone  to  see  that  she  doesn’t 
overlook  that.  And  now  its  Splurge,  of  New  York  ; and  now 
its  Batters  of  New  Hampshire — and  now  the  Yice  President! 
Well  I may  as  well  adjourn.  Pve  got  enough.” 

But  he  hadn’t.  He  got  as  far  as  the  door — and  then 
^struggled  back  to  take  one  more  look,  hating  himself  all  the 
while  for  his  weakness. 

Toward  midnight,  when  supper  was  announced,  the 
crowd  thronged  to  the  supper  room  where  a long  table  was 
decked  out  with  what  seemed  a rare  repast,  but  which  con- 
sisted of  things  better  calculated  to  feast  the  eye  than  the 
appetite.  The  ladies  were  soon  seated  in  files  along  the  wall, 
and  in  groups  here  and  there,  and  the  colored  waiters  filled 
the  plates  and  glasses  and  the  male  guests  moved  hither  and 
thither  conveying  them  to  the  privileged  sex. 

Harry  took  an  ice  and  stood  up  by  the  table  with  other 
gentlemen,  and  listened  to  the  buzz  of  conversation  while  he 
ate. 

From  these  remarks  he  learned  a good  deal  about  Laura 
that  was  news  to  him.  For  instance,  that  she  was  of  a dis- 
tinguished western  family ; that  she  was  highly  educated ; 
that  she  was  very  rich  and  a great  landed  heiress ; that  she 
was  not  a professor  of  religion,  and  yet  was  a Christian  in 
the  truest  and  best  sense  of  the  word,  foi*  her  whole  heart 
was  devoted  to  the  accomplishment  of  a great  and  noble 
enterprise — none  other  than  the  sacrificing  of  her  landed 
estates  to  the  uplifting  of  the  down-trodden  negro  and  the 
turning  of  his  erring  feet  into  the  way  of  light  and  righteous- 
ness. Harry  observed  that  as  soon  as  one  listener  had 
absorbed  the  story,  he  turned  about  and  delivered  it  to  his 
next  neighbor  and  the  latter  individual  straightway  passed  it 
on.  And  thus  he  saw  it  travel  the  round  of  the  gentlemen 
and  overflow  rearward  among  the  ladies.  He  could  not 
trace  it  backward  to  its  fountain  head,  and  so  he  could 
jiot  tell  who  it  was  that  started  it. 

One  thing  annoyed  Harry  a great  deal ; and  that  was  the 


294 


THE  PEACOCK  CLOSES  HIS  FEATHERS. 


reflection  that  he  might  have  been  in  Washington  days  and 
days  ago  and  thrown  his  fascinations  about  Laura  with  per- 
manent eflect  while  she  was  new  and  strange  to  the  capital, 
instead  of  dawdling  in  Philadelphia  to  no  purpose.  He 
feared  he  had  missed  a trick,”  as  he  expressed  it. 

He  only  found  one  little  opportunity  of  speaking  again 
with  Laura  before  the  evening’s  festivities  ended,  and  then, 
for  the  first  time  in  years,  his  airy  self-complacency  failed 
him,  his  tongue’s  easy  confidence  forsook  it  in  a great  meas- 
ure, and  he  was  conscious  of  an  unheroic  timidity.  He  was 
glad  to  get  away  and  find  a place  where  he  could  despise- 
himself  in  private  and  try  to  grow  his  clipped  plumes  again. 

When  Laura  reached  home  she  was  tired  but  exultant,  and 
Senator  Dil worthy  was  pleased  and  satisfied.  He  called 
Laura  “ my  daughter,”  next  morning,  and  gave  her  some 
“ pin  money,”  as  he  termed  it,  and  she  sent  a hundred  and 
fifty  dollars  of  it  to  her  mother  and  loaned  a trifle  to  Col. 
Sellers.  Then  the  Senator  had  a long  private  conference 
with  Laura,  and  unfolded  certain  plans  of  his  for  the  good 
of  the  country,  and  religion,  and  the  poor,  and  temperance, 
and  showed  her  how  she  could  assist  him  in  developing  these- 
worthy  and  noble  enterprises. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 


— Itancau  Ihduhomni  eciyapi,  Itancan  Tohanokihi-eca  eciyapi,  Itancan  Iapi« 
waxte  eciyapi,  he  hunkakewicaye  cin  etanhan  otonwe  kin  caxtonpi;  uakittn 
Akicita  Wicaxta-ceji-skuya,  Akicita  Anogite,  Akicita  Taku-kaxta — 

JTC  richeste  wifmen  alle  : pat  were  in  londe, 

and  ]7ere  hehere  monnen  dohtere 

Jjere  wes  moni  pal  hende : on  faire  pa  uolke. 
par  was  mochel  honde  r of  manicunnes  londe, 
for  ech  wende  to  beon . betere  pan  oper. 

Layamon. 


Laura  soon  discovered  that  there  were  three  distinct  aris- 
tocracies in  Washington.  One  of  these,  (niclv-named 
the  Antiques,)  consisted  of  cultivated,  high-bred  old  fami- 
lies who  looked  back  with  pride  upon  an  ancestry  that  had 
been  always  great  in  the  nation’s  councils  and  its  wars  from 
the  birth  of  the  republic  downward.  Into  this  select  circle 
it  was  difficult  to  gain  admission.  Xo.  2 was  the  aristocracy 
of  the  middle  ground — of  which,  more  arion.  Xo.  3 lay 
beyond  ; of  it  we  will  say  a word  here.  W e will  call  it  the 
Aristocracy  of  the  Parvenus — as,  indeed,  the  general  public  did. 
Official  position,  no  matter  how  obtained,  entitled  a man  to 
a place  in  it,  and  carried  his  family  with  him,  no  matter 
whence  they  sprang.  Great  wealth  gave  a man  a still  higher  ^ 
and  nobler  place  in  it  than  did  official  position.  If  thjg 
wealth  had  been  acquired  by  conspicuous  ingenuity.  With 
just  a pleasant  little  spice  of  illegality  about  it,  all  the  better. 
This  aristocracy  was  ‘‘  fast,”  and  not  averse  to  ostentation. 

295 


296 


SOCIETY  CUSTOMS. 


The  aristocracy  of  the  Antiques  ignored  the  aristocracy  of 
the  Parvenus ; the  Parvenus  laughed  at  the  Antiques,  (and 
secretly  envied  them.) 

There  were  certain  important  “ society  ” customs  which 
one  in  Laura’s  position  needed  to  understand.  For  in- 
stance, when  a lady  of  any  prominence  comes  to  one 
of  our  cities  and  takes  up  her  residence,  all  the  ladies 
of  her  grade  favor  her  in  turn  with  an  initial  call,  giving 
their  cards  to  the  servant  at  the  door  by  way  of  introduction. 
They  come  singly,  sometimes  ; sometimes  in  couples ; — and 
always  in  elaborate  full  dress.  They  talk  two  minutes  and  a 
quarter  and  then  go.  If  the  lady  receiving  the  call  desires  a 
further  acquaintance,  she  must  return  the  visit  within  two 
weeks ; to  neglect  it  beyond  that  time  means  “ let  the  matter 
drop.”  Put  if  she  does  return  the  visit  within  two  weeks,  it 
then  becomes  the  other  party’s  privilege  to  continue  the 
acquaintance  or  drop  it.  She  signifies  lier  willingness  to  con- 
tinue it  by  calling  again  any  time  within  twelve  months ; 
after  that,  if  the  parties  go  on  calling  upon  each  other  once  a 
year,  in  our  large  cities,  that  is  sufficient,  and  the  acquaintance- 
ship holds  good.  The  thing  goes  along  smoothly,  now.  The 
annual  visits  are  made  and  returned  with  peaceful  regularity 
aiud  bland  satisfaction,  although  it  is  not  necessary  that  the 
two  ladies  shall  actually  see  each  other  oftener  than  once 
every  few  years.  Their  cards  preserve  the  intimacy  and  keep 
the  acquaintanceship  intact. 

For  instance,  Mrs.  A.  pays  her  annual  visit,  sits  in  her  car- 
riage and  sends  in  her  card  with  the  lower  right  hand  corner 
turned  down,  which  signifies  that  she  has  called  in  person 
Mrs.  B.  sends  down  word  that  she  is  “ engaged  ” or  “ wishes 
to  be  excused  ” — or  if  she  is  a Parvenu  and  low-bred,  she 
perhaps  sends  word  that  she  is  “ not  at  home.”  Very  good ; 
Mrs.  A.  drives  on  happy  and  content.  If  Mrs.  A.’s  daughter 
marries,  or  a child  is  born  to  the  family,  Mrs.  B.  calls,  sends 
in  her  card  with  the  upper  left  hand  corner  turned  down,  and 
then  goes  along  about  her  affairs — for  that  inverted  corner 
means  “ Congratulations.”  If  Mrs.  B.’s  husband  falls  down 


THE  ANTIQUES, 


297 


Stairs  and  breaks  his  neck,  Mrs.  A.  calls,  leaves  her  card 
with  the  upper  right  hand  corner  turned  down,  and  then  takes 
her  departure  ; this  corner  means  Condolence.”  It  is  very 
necessary  to  get  the  corners  right,  else  one  may  unintention- 
ally condole  with  a friend  on  a wedding  or  congratulate  her 
upon  a funeral.  If  either  lady  is  about  to  leave  the  city,  she 
goes  to  the  other’s  house  and  leaves  her  card  with  P.  P.  C.” 
engraved  under  the  name — which  signifies,  ‘‘Pay  Parting 
Call.”  But  enough  of  etiquette.  Laura  was  early  instructed 
in  the  mysteries  of  society  life  by  a competent  mentor,  and 
thus  was  preserved  from  troublesome  mistakes. 

The  first  fashionable  call  she  received  from  a member  of 
the  ancient  nobility,  otherwise  the  Antiques,  was  of  a pat- 
tern with  all  she  received  from  that  limb  of  the  aristocracy 
'afterward.  This  call  was  paid  by  Mrs.  Major-General  Fulke- 
Fulkerson  and  daughter.  They  drove  up  at  one  in  the  after- 
noon in  a rather  antiquated  vehicle  with  a faded  coat  of  arms 
on  the  panels,  an  aged  white-wooled  negro  coachman  on  the 
Box  and  a younger  darkey  beside  him — the  footman.  Both 


/-\-f  c,/:iT»TTOTTf  O 


THE  ATTACHES  OF  THE  ANTIQUES. 


full  character  ; that  is  to  say,  with  Elizabethan  stateliness  on 
the  part  of  the  dowager,  and  an  easy  grace  and  dignity  on  the 


298 


DEEPLY  INTERESTING. 


part  of  the  young  lady  that  had  a nameless  something  about  it 
that  suggested  conscious  superiority.  The  dresses  of  both 
ladies  were  exceedingly  rich,  as  to  material,  but  as  notably 
modest  as  to  color  and  ornament.  All  parties  having  seated 
themselves,  the  dowager  delivered  herself  of  a remark  that 
was  not  unusual  in  its  form,  and  yet  it  came  from  her  lips 
with  the  impressiveness  of  Scripture : 

“ The  weather  has  been  unpropitious  of  late.  Miss  Haw- 
kins.” 

“ It  has  indeed,”  said  Laura.  “ The  climate  seems  to  be 
variable.” 

‘‘  It  is  its  nature  of  old,  here,”  said  the  daughter — stating 
it  apparently  as  a fact,  only,  and  by  her  manner  waving  aside 
all  personal  responsibility  on  account  of  it.  Is  it  not  so, 
mamma?  ” 

“ Quite  so,  my  child.  Do  you  like  winter.  Miss  Hawkins  ?” 
She  said  like  ” as  if  she  had  an  idea  that  its  dictionary 
meaning  w'as  approve  of.” 

“ Not  as  w^ell  as  summer — though  I think  all  seasons  have 
their  charms.” 

‘‘  It  is  a very  just  remark.  The  general  held  similar  views. 
He  considered  snow  in  winter  proper ; sultriness  in  summer 
legitimate ; frosts  in  the  autumn  the  same,  and  rains  in 
spring  not  objectionable.  He  was  not  an  exacting  man.  And 
I call  to  mind  now  that  he  always  admired  thunder.  Yon 
remember,  child,  your  father  alw^ays  admired  thunder  ? ” 

“ He  adored  it.” 

“No  doubt  it  reminded  him  of  battle,”  said  Laura. 

“Yes,  I think  perhaps  it  did.  He  had  a great  respect  for 
Nature.  He  often  said  there  was  something  striki7ig  about 
the  ocean.  You  remember  his  saying  that,  daugliter?  ” 

“Yes,  often,  mother.  I remember  it  very  well.” 

“ And  hurricanes.  He  took  a great  interest  in  hurricanes. 
And  animals.  Dogs,  especially — hunting  dogs.  Also  comets. 
I think  we  all  have  our  predilections.  I think  it  is  this  that 
gives  variety  to  our  tastes.”  Laura  coincided  with  this  view. 


NEWPORT  VS.  LONG  BRANCH. 


299‘ 


Do  you  find  it  hard  and  -lonely  to  be  so  far  from  your 
home  and  friends,  Miss  Hawkins  ? ” 

I do  find  it  depressing  sometimes,  but  then  there  is  sa 
much  about  me  here  that  is  novel  and  interesting  that  my 
days  are  made  up  more  of  sunshine  than  shadow.” 

‘‘Washington  is  not  a dull  city  in  the  season,”  said  the 
young  lady.  “We  have  some  very  good  society  indeed,  and 
one  need  not  be  at  a loss  for  means  to  pass  the  time  pleas^ 
antly.  Are  you  fond  of  watering-places.  Miss  Hawkins  ? ” 

“ I have  really  had  no  experience  of  them,  but  I have  al- 
ways felt  a strong  desire  to  see  something  of  fashionable 
watering-place  life.” 

“We  of  Washington  are  unfortunately  situated  in  that 
respect,”  said  the  dowager.  “ It  is  a tedious  distance  to 
Hewport.  But  there  is  no  help  for  it.” 

Laura  said  to  herself,  “ Long  Branch  and  Cape  May  are 
nearer  than  Newport;  doubtless  these  places  are  low;  I’ll 
feel  my  way  a little  and  see.”  Then  she  said  aloud : 

“ Why  I thought  that  Long  Branch — ” 

There  was  no  need  to  “ feel  ” any  further — there  was  that 
in  both  faces  before  her  which  made  that  truth  apparent. 
The  dowager  said : 

“Nobody  goes  there^  Miss  Hawkins — at  least  only  persons 
of  no  position  in  society.  And  the  President.”  She  added 
that  with  tranquility. 

“Newport  is  damp,  and  cold,  and  windy  and  excessively 
disagreeable,”  said  the  daughter,  “ but  it  is  very  select.  One 
cannot  be  fastidious  about  minor  matters  when  one  has  no 
choice.” 

The  visit  had  spun  out  nearly  three  minutes,  now.  Both 
ladies  rose  with  grave  dignity,  conferred  upon  Laura  a formal 
invitation  to  call,  and  then  retired  from  the  conference. 
Laura  remained  in  the  drawing-room  and  left  them  to  pilot 
themselves  out  of  the  house — an  inhospitable  thing,  it  seemed 
to  her,  but  then  she  was  following  her  instructions.  She 
stood,  steeped  in  reverie,  a while,  and  then  she  said : 


300 


THE  PARVENUS. 


I til  ink  1 could  always  enjoy  icebergs — as  scenery — but 
not  as  company.” 

Still,  she  knew  these  two  people  by  reputation,  and  was 
aware  that  they  were  not  ice-bergs  when  they  were  in  their 
own  waters  and  amid  their  legitimate  surroundings,  but  on 
the  contrary  were  people  to  be  respected  for  their  stainless 
characters  and  esteemed  for  their  social  virtues  and  their 
benevolent  impulses.  She  thought  it  a pity  that  they  had  to 
.be  such  changed  and  dreary  creatures  on  occasions  of  state. 

The  first  call  Laura  received  from  the  other  extremity  of 
the  Washington  aristocracy  followed  close  upon  the  heels  of 
the  one  we  have  just  been  describing.  The  callers  this  time 
were  the  Hon.  Mrs.  Oliver  Higgins,  the  Hon.  Mrs.  Patrique 
Oreille  (pronounced  O-rolay,)  Miss  Bridget  (pronounced 
Breezhay)  Oreille,  Mrs.  Peter  Oashly,  Miss  Gashly,  and  Miss 
Emmeline  Gashly. 

The  three  carriages  arrived  at  the  same  moment  from  dif- 
ferent directions.  They  were  new  and  wonderfully  shiny, 
.and  the  brasses  on  the  harness  were  highly  polished  and  bore 
complicated  monograms.  There  were  showy  coats  of  arms, 
too,  with  Latin  mottoes.  The  coachmen  and  footmen  were 
dad  in  bright  new  livery,  of  striking  colors,  and  they  had 
■ black  rosettes  with  shaving-brushes  projecting  above  them,  on 
the  sides  of  their  stove-pipe  hats. 

When  the  visitors  swept  into  the  drawing-room  they  filled 
the  place  with  a suffocating  sweetness  procured  at  the  per- 
fumers. Their  costumes,  as  to  architecture,  were  the  latest 
fashion  intensified  ; they  were  rainbow-hned ; they  were 
hung  with  jewels — chiefiy  diamonds.  It  would  have  been 
plain  to  any  eye  that  it  had  cost  something  to  upholster  these 
women. 

The  Hon.  Mrs.  Oliver  Higgins  was  the  wife  of  a delegate 
from  a distant  territory — a gentleman  who  had  kept  the  princi- 
pal ‘‘saloon,”  and  sold  the  best  whiskey  in  the  principal  village 
in  his  wilderness,  and  so,  of  course,  was  recognized  as  the 
first  man  of  his  commonwealth  and  its  fittest  representative. 


AN  ELEGANT  HONORABLE. 


30l 


He  was  a man  of  paramount  influence  at  home,  for  he  was' 
public  spirited,  he  was  chief  of  the  fire  department,  he  had 
an  admirable  command  of  profane  language,  and  had  killed 
several  parties.”  His  shirt  fronts  were  always  immaculate ; 
his  boots  daintily  polished,  and  no  man  could  lift  a foot  and 
fire  a dead  shot  at  a stray  speck  of  dirt  on  it  with  a white 
handkerchief  with  a finer  grace  than  he ; his  watch  chain 
weighed  a pound ; the  gold  in  his  finger  ring  was  worth  forty 
five  dollars  ; he  wore  a diamond 
cluster-pin  and  he  parted  his  hair 
behind.  He  had  always  been  re- 
garded as  the  most  elegant  gen- 
tleman in  his  territory,  and  it  was 
conceded  by  all  that  no  man  there- 
abouts was  anywhere  near  his 
equal  in  the  telling  of  an  obscene 
story  except  the  venerable  white- 
haired  governor  himself.  The 
Hon.  Higgins  had  not  come  to  ^ 
serve  his  country  in  Washington  ^ 
for  nothing.  The  appropriation 
which  he  had  engineered  through 
Congress  for  the  maintenance  of 
the  Indians  in  his  Territory  would 
have  made  all  those 
if  it  had  ever  got  to 
The  Hon.  Mrs.  Higgins 


savages  rich 
them. 


was 


HON.  OLIVER  HIGGINS. 

picturesque  woman,  and  a fluent  talker,  and  she  held  a tolera- 
bly high  station  among  the  Parvenus.  Her  English  was  fair 
enough,  as  a general  thing — though,  being  of  Hew  York  origin, 
she  had  the  fashion  peculiar  to  many  natives  of  that  city  of 
pronouncing  saw  and  law  as  if  they  were  spelt  sawr  and  lawr. 

Petroleum  was  the  agent  that  had  suddenly  transformed 
the  Gashlys  from  modest  hard-working  country  village  folk 
into  “ loud  ” aristocrats  and  ornaments  of  the  city. 

The  Hon.  Patrique  Oreille  was  a wealthy  Frenchman  from 
Cork.  Hot  that  he  was  wealthy  when  he  first  came  from 
Cork,  but  just  the  reverse.  When  he  first  landed  in  Hew 


3055  A FRENCHMAjn  j^kum  uukjv. 

T ork  with  his  wife,  he  had  only  halted  at  Castle  Garden  for 
a few  minutes  to  receive  and  exhibit  papers  showing  that  he 
had  resided  in  this  country  two  years — and  then  he  voted  the 

democratic  ticket  and  went 
up  town  to  hunt  a house. 
He  found  one  and  then 
went  to  work  as  assistant 
to  an  architect  and  builder, 
carrying  a hod  all  day  and 
studying  politics  evenings. 
Industry  and  economy  soon 
enabled  him  to  start  a low 
rum  shop  in  a foul  locality, 
and  this  gave  him  political 
influence.  In  our  country 
it  is  always  our  first  care  to 
see  that  our  people  have  the  opportunity  of  voting  for  their 
choice  of  men  to  represent  and  govern  them — we  do  not  per- 
mit our  great  officials  to  appoint  the  little  officials.  W e prefer 
to  have  so  tremendous  a power  as  that  in  our  own  hands.  We 
hold  it  safest  to  elect  our  judges  and  everybody  else.  In  our 
cities,  the  ward  meetings  elect  delegates  to  the  nominating  con- 
ventions and  instruct  them  whom  to  nomiilate.  The  publi- 
cans and  their  retainers  rule  the  ward  meetings  (for  every- 
body else  hates  the  worry  of  politics  and  stays  at  home) ; the 
delegates  from  the  ward  meetings  organize  as  a nominating 
convention  and  make  up  a list  of  candidates — one  convention 
offering  a democratic  and  another  a republican  list  of — incor- 
ruptibles  ; and  then  the  great  meek  public  come  forward  at 
the  proper  time  and  make  unhampered  choice  and  bless 
Heaven  that  they  live  in  a free  land  where  no  form  of  despo- 
tism can  ever  intrude. 

Patrick  O’Piley  (as  his  name  then  stood)  created  friends 
and  influence  very  fast,  for  he  was  always  on  hand  at  the 
police  courts  to  give  straw  bail  for  his  customers  or  establish  an 
alidz  for  them  in  case  they  had  been  beating  anybody  to  death 


PAT  O’RILEY  AND  THE  OULD  WOMAN. 


HOW  MR.  O’RILEY  SERVED  HIS  COUNTRY. 


303 


on  his  premises.  Consequently  he  presently  became  a political 
leader,  and  was  elected  to  a petty  office  under  the  city  govern- 
ment. Out  of  a meager  salary  he  soon  saved  money  enough 
to  open  quite  a stylish  liquor  saloon  higher  up  town,  with  a 
faro  bank  attached  and"  plenty  of  capital  to  conduct  it  with. 
This  gave  him  fame  and  great  respectability.  The  position 
of  alderman  was  forced  upon  him,  and  it  was  just  the  same  as 
presenting  him  a gold  mine.  He  had  tine  horses  and  car- 
riages, now,  and  closed  up  his  whiskey  mill. 

By  and  by  he  became  a large  contractor  for  city  work,  and 
was  a bosom  friend  of  the  great  and  good  Wm.  M.  Weed 
himself,  who  had  stolen  $20,000,000  from  the  city  and  was  a 
man  so  envied,  so  honored,  so  adored,  indeed,  that  when  the 
sheriff  went  to  his  office  to  arrest  him  as  a felon,  that  sheriff 
blushed  and  apologized,  and  one  of  the  illustrated  papers 
made  a picture  of  the  scene  and  spoke  of  the  matter  in  such  a 
way  as  to  show  that  the  editor  regretted  that  the  offense  of  an 
aiTest  had  been  offered  to  so  exalted  a personage  as  Mr.  Weed. 

Mr.  O’Biley  furnished  shingle  nails  to  the  new  Court 
House  at  three  thousand  dollars  a keg,  and  eighteen  gross  of 
60-cent  thermometers  at  fifteen  hundred  dollars  a dozen  ; the 
controller  and  the  board  of  audit  passed  the  bills,  and  a mayor, 
who  was  simply  ignorant  but  not  criminal,  signed  them. 
When  they  were  paid,  Mr.  O’Biley’s  admirers  gave  him  a 
solitaire  diamond  pin  of  the  size  of  a filbert,  in  imitation 
of  the  liberality  of  Mr.  Weed’s  friends,  and  then  Mr.  O’Kiley 
retired  from  active  service  and  amused  himself  with  buying 
real  estate  at  enormous  figures  and  holding  it  in  other  peo- 
ple’s names.  By  and  by  the  newspapers  came  out  with  ex- 
posures and  called  Weed  and  O’Biley  thieves,” — whereupon 
the  people  rose  as  one  man  (voting  repeatedly)  and  elected 
the  two  gentlemen  to  their  proper  theatre  of  action,  the  Hew 
York  legislature.  The  newspapers  clamored,  and  the  courts 
proceeded  to  try  the  new  legislators  for  their  small  irregu- 
larities. Our  admirable  jury  system  enabled  the  persecuted 
ox-officials  to  secure  a jury  of  nine  gentlemen  from  a 


304  THE  HON.  P.  OREILLE  VISITS  EUROPE.- 

neighboring  asylum  and  three  graduates  from  Sing-Sing,  and- 
presently  they  walked  forth  with  characters  vindicated.  Tho 
legislature  was  called  upon  to  spew  them  forth — a thing  which 
the  legislature  declined  to  do.  It  was  like  asking  children  to 
repudiate  their  own  father.  It  was  ‘ a legislature  of  the 
modern  pattern. 

Being  now  wealthy  and  distinguished,  Mr.  O’Riley,  still 
bearing  the  legislative  ‘‘Hon.”  attached  to  his  name  (for 
titles  never  die  in  America,  although  we  do  take  a republic 
can  pride  in  poking  fun  at  such  trifles),  sailed  for  Europe 
with  his  family.  They  traveled  all  about,  turning  their 
noses  up  at  every  thing,  and  not  finding  it  a difficult  thing 
to  do,  either,  because  nature  had  originally  given  those  fea- 
tures a cast  in  that  direction;  and  finally  they  established 
themselves  in  Paris,  that  Paradise  of  Americans  of  their 
sort. — They  staid  there  two  years  and  learned  to  speak  Eng- 
lish with  a foreign  accent — not  that  it  hadn’t  always  had  a. 
foreign  accent  (which  was  indeed  the  case)  but  now  the 

nature  of  it  was  changed. 
Finally  they  returned  home 
and  became  ultra  fashion- 
ables. They  landed  here 
as  the  Hon.  Patrique 
Oreille  and  family,  and  so 
are  known  unto  this  day. 

Laura  provided  seats  for 
her  visitors  and  they  im- 
mediately launched  forth 
into  a breezy,  sparkling 
conversation  with  that  easy 
confidence  wdiich  is  to  be 
found  only  among  persons  accustomed  to  high  life. 

“I’ve  been  intending  to  call  sooner.  Miss  Hawkins,”  said 
the  Hon.  Mrs.  Oreille,  but  the  weather’s  been  so  horrid. — 
How  do  you  like  Washington  ?” 

Laura  liked  it  veiy  well  indeed. 


THE  PARVENUS  CONVERSE. 


305 


Mrs,  Gashly — Is  it  your  first  visit  ? ” 

YeSj  it  was  her  first. 

All — “ Indeed  ? ” 

Mrs.  Oreille — “ I’m  afraid  you’ll  despise  the  weather,  Miss 
Hawkins.  It’s  perfectly  awful.  It  always  iSo  I tell  Mr. 
Oreille  I can’t  and  I won’t  put  up  with  any  such  a climate. 
If  we  were  obliged  to  do  it,  I wouldn’t  mind  it ; but  we  are  not 
obliged  to,  and  so  I don’t  see  the  use  of  it.  Sometimes  its 
real  pitiful  the  way  the  childern  pine  for  Parry — don’t  look 
so  sad,  Bridget,  ma  chere — poor  child,  she  can’t  hear  Parry 
mentioned  without  getting  the  blues.” 

Mrs.  Gashly — “Well  I should  think  so,  Mrs.  Oreille.  A 
body  Iwes  in  Paris,  but  a body  only  stays  here.  I dote  on 
Paris ; I’d  druther  scrimp  along  on  ten  thousand  dollars  a 
year  there,  than  suffer  and  worry  here  on  a real  decent 
income.” 

Miss  Gashly — “Well  then  I wish  you’d  take  us  back, 
mother ; I’m  sure  I hate  this  stoopid  country  enough,  even 
if  it  is  our  dear  native  land.” 

Miss  Emmeline  Gashly — “ What,  and  leave  poor  J ohnny 
Peterson  behind  ? ” [An  airy  general  laugh  applauded  this 
sally]. 

Miss  Gashly — “ Sister,  I should  think  you’d  be  ashamed 
of  yourself ! ” 

Miss  Emmeline — “ Oli,  you  needn’t  ruffle  your  feathers  so. 
I was  only  joking.  He  don’t  mean  anything  by  coming  to 
the  house  every  evening — only  comes  to  see  mother.  Of 
course  that’s  all ! ” [General  laughter]. 

Miss  G.  prettily  confused — “ Emmeline,  how  can  you ! ” 

Mrs.  G.^ — “ Let  your  sister  alone,  Emmeline. — I never  saw 
such  a tease  ! ” 

Mrs.  Oreille — “ What  lovely  corals  you  have.  Miss  Hawk- 
ins ! Just  look  at  them,  Bridget,  dear.  I’ve  a great  pas- 
sion for  corals — it’s  a pity  they’re  getting  a little  common. 
I have  some  elegant  ones — not  as  elegant  as  yours,  though 
— but  of  course  I don’t  wear  them  now.” 

20- 


306  HOW  SOME  RESPECTABLE  PEOPLE  REALLY  LIVE. 

Laura — I suppose  they  are  rather  common,  hut  still  I 
have  a great  affection  for  these,  because  they  were  given  to 
me  by  a dear  old  friend  of  our  family  named  Murphy. 
He  was  a very  charming  man,  hut  very  eccentric.  W e always 
supposed  he  was  an  Irishman,  but  after  he  got  rich  he  went 
abroad  for  a year  or  two,  and  when  he  came  back  you  would 
have  been  amused  to  see  how  interested  he  was  in  a potato. 
He  asked  what  it  w^as  ! Now  you  know  that  when  Provi- 
dence shapes  a mouth  especially  for  the  accommodation  of  a 
potato  you  can  detect  that  fact  at  a glance  when  that  mouth 

is  in  repose — foreign  travel 
can  never  remove  that  sign. 
But  he  was  a very  delight- 
ful gentleman,  and  his  lit- 
tle foible  did  not  hurt  him 
at  alL  Me  all  have  our 
shams— I suppose  there  is 
a sham  somewhere  about 
every  individual,  if  we 
could  manage  to  ferret  it 
out.  I would  so  like  to 
go  to  France.  I suppose 
our  society  here  compares 
very  favorably  with  French  society  does  it  not,  Mrs.  Oreille?  ” 

Mrs.  0. — “ Not  by  any  means.  Miss  Hawkins  I French 
society  is  much  more  elegant — much  more  so.” 

Laura — “ I am  sorry  to  hear  that.  I suppose  ours  haa 
deteriorated  of  late.” 

Mrs.  0. — Y ery  much  indeed.  There  are  people  in  soci- 
ety here  that'  have  really  no  more  money  to  live  on  than 
what  some  of  us  pay  for  servant  hire.  Still  I won’t  say  but 
what  some  of  them  are  very  good  people — and  respectable, 
too.” 

Laura — ‘‘The  old  families  seem  to  be  holding  themselves 
aloof,  from  what  I hear.  I suppose  you  seldom  meet  in  soci- 
ety now,  the  people  you  used  to  be  familiar  with  twelve  or 
fifteen  years  ago  ?” 


SERIOUS  SUBJECTS  DISCUSSED. 


301 


Mrs.  O. — Oh,  no — hardly  ever.” 

Mr.  O’Kiley  kept  his  first  rum-mill  and  protected  his  cus- 
tomers from  the  law  in  those  days,  and  this  turn  of  the  con- 
versation was  rather  uncomfortable  to  madame  than  other- 
wise. 

Hon,  Mrs.  Higgins — “Is  Fran9ois’  health  good  now,  Mrs. 
Oreille  ?” 

Mrs.  0. — [Thankful  for  the  intervention) — “l^ot  very. 
A body  couldn’t  expect  it.  He  was  always  delicate — especially 
his  lungs — and  this  odious  climate  tells  on  him  strong,  now, 
-after  Parry,  which  is  so  mild.” 

Mrs.  H. — “ I should  think  so.  Husband  says  Percy’ll  die 
if  he  don’t  have  a change  ; and  so  I’m  going  to  swap  round  a 
little  and  see  what  can  be  done.  I saw  a lady  from  Florida 
last  week,  and  she  recommended  Key  West.  I told  her 
Percy  couldn’t  abide  winds,  as  he  was  threatened  with  a pul- 
monary afiection,  and  then  she  said  try  St.  Augustine.  It’s 
an  awful  distance — ten  or  twelve  hundred  mile,  they  say — 
but  then  in  a case  of  this  kind  a body  can’t  stand  back  for 
trouble,  you  know.” 

Mrs.  0. — “No,  of  course  that’s  so.  If  Frangois  don’t  get 
better  soon  we’ve  got  to  look  out  for  some  other  place,  or  else 
Europe.  We’ve  thought  some  of  the  Hot  Springs,  but  I 
don’t  know.  It’s  a great  responsibility  and  a body  wants  to 
go  cautious.  Is  Hildebrand  about  again,  Mrs.  Gashly  ?” 

Mrs.  G. — “ Yes,  but  that’s  about  alL  It  was  indigestion, 
you  know,  and  it  looks  as  if  it  was  chronic.  And  you  know 
I do  dread  dyspepsia.  We’ve  all  been  worried  a good  deal 
about  him.  The  doctor  recommended  baked  apple  and  spoiled 
meat,  and  I think  it  done  him  good.  It’s  about  the  only 
thing  that  will  stay  on  his  stomach  now-a-days.  We  have 
Dr.  Shovel  now.  Who’s  your  doctor,  Mrs.  Higgins  ?” 

Mrs.  H. — “ Well,  we  had  Dr.  Spooner  a good  while,  but 
he  runs  so  much  to  emetics,  which  I think  are  weakening, 
that  we  changed  off  and  took  Dr.  Leathers.  We  like  him 
very  much.  He  has  a fine  European  reputation,  too.  The 


, 308 


A DREADFUL  ACCIDENT. 


first  thing  lie  suggested  for  Percy  was  to  have  him  taken  out 
in  the  hack  yard  for  an  airing,  every  afternoon,  with  nothing 
at  all  on.” 

Mrs.  O.  and  Mrs,  G. — “What!” 

Mrs.  H. — “ As  true  as  I’m  sitting  here.  And  it  actually 
helped  him  for  two  or  three  days  ; it  did  indeed.  But  after 
that  the  doctor  said  it  seemed  to  he  too  severe  and  so  he  has 
fell  hack  on  hot  foot-haths  at  night  and  cold  showers  in  the 
morning.  But  I don’t  think  there  can  he  any  good  sound 
help  for  him  in  such  a climate  as  this.  I believe  we  are  going 
to  lose  him  if  we  don’t  make  a change.” 

Mrs.  0. — “ I suppose  you  heard  of  the  fright  we  had  two 
weeks  ago  last  Saturday  ? Ho  ? Why  that  is  strange — hut 
come  to  remember,  you’ve  all  been  away  to  Bichmond. 
Frangois  tumbled  from  the  sky  light  in  the  second-story  hall 
clean  down  to  the  first  fioor — ” 

Everybody — “ Mercy  1” 

Mrs.  Q. — Yes  indeed — and  broke  two  of  his  ribs — ” 
Everybody  — “ What  1” 

Mrs.  O. — “ Just  as  true  as  you  live.  First  we  thought  he 
must  be  injured  internally.  It  was  fifteen  minutes  past  8 
in  the  evening.  Of  course  we  were  all  distracted  in  a moment 
— everybody  was  flying  everywhere,  and  nobody  doing  any- 
thing anything.  By  and  by  I flung  out  next  door  and 

dragged  in  Dr.  Sprague,  President  of  the  Medical  University 
— no  time  to  go  for  our  own  doctor  of  course — and  the  min- 
ute he  saw  Fran9ois  he  said,  ‘ Send  for  your  own  physician, 
madam  ’ — said  it  as  cross  as  a bear,  too,  and  turned  right  on 
his  heel  and  cleared  out  without  doing  a thing  1” 

Everybddy — “ The  mean,  contemptible  brute  1” 

Mrs.  O. — “Well  you  may  say  it.  I was  nearly  out  of  my 
wits  by  this  time.  But  we  hurried  off  the  servants  after  our 
own  doctor  and  telegraphed  mother — she  was  in  Hew  York 
and  rushed  down  on  the  first  train  ; and  when  the  doctor  got 
there,  lo  and  behold  you  he  found  Fran9ois  had  broke  one  of 
his  legs,  too  1” 

Everybody — “ Goodness  I” 


EXHIBITION  OF  WOMANLY  DEVOTION. 


309 


Mrs.  0. — ‘‘  Yes.  So  he  set  his  leg  and  bandaged  it  up, 
and  fixed  his  ribs  and  gave  him  a dose  of  something  to  quiet 
down  his  excitement  and  put  him  to  sleep — poor  thing  he 
was  trembling  and  frightened  to  death  and  it  w^as  pitiful  to 
see  him.  We  had  him  in  my  bed — Mr.  Oreille  slept  in  the 
guest  room  and  I laid  down  beside  Fran 9ois — but  not  to  sleep 
— bless  you  no.  Bridget  and  I set  up  all  night,  and  the  doc- 
tor staid  till  two  in  the  morning,  bless  his  old  heart. — When 
mother  got  there  she  was  so  used  up  with  anxiety  that  she 
Fad  to  go  to  bed  and  have  the  doctor ; but  when  she  found 
that  Fran9ois  was  not  in  immediate  danger  she  rallied,  and  by 
night  she  was  abl-  . to  take  a watch  herself.  Well  for  three 
days  and  nights  we  three  never  left  that  bedside  only  to  take 
an  hour’s  nap  at  a time.  And  then  the  doctor  said  Fran9ois 
was  out  of  danger  and  if  ever  there  was  a thankful  set,  in 
this  wmrld,  it  was  us.” 

Laura’s  respect  for  these  women  had  augmented  during 
this  conversation,  naturally  enough ; affection  and  devotion 
are  qualities  that  are  able  to  adorn  and  render  beautiful  a 
•character  that  is  otherwise  unattractive,  and  even  repulsive. 

Mrs.  Gashly — I do  believe  I should  a died  if  I had  been 
in  your  place,  Mrs.  Oreille.  The  time  Hildebrand  was  so 
low  with  the  pneumonia  Emmeline  and  me  were  all  alone 
with  him  most  of  the  time  and  w^e  never  took  a minute’s 
sleep  for  as  much  as  two  days  and  nights.  It  was  at  New- 
port and  we  w^ouldn’t  trust  hired  nurses.  One  afternoon  he 
had  a fit,  and  jumped  up  and  run  out  on  the  portico  of  the 
hotel  with  nothing  in  the  world  on  and  the  wind  a blowing 
like  ice  and  we  after  him  scared  to  death ; and  when  the 
ladies  and  gentlemen  saw  that  he  had  a fit,  every  lady  scat- 
tered for  her  room  and  not  a gentleman  lifted  his  hand  to 
help,  the  wretches  ! Well  after  that  his  life  hung  by  a thread 
for  as  much  as  ten  days,  and  the  minute  he  was  out  of  dan- 
ger Emmeline  and  me  just  went  to  bed  sick  and  worn  out. 
I never  want  to  pass  through  such  a time  again.  Poor  dear 
Fran9ois — which  leg  did  he  break,  Mrs.  Oreille  ?” 


310 


THE  PATIENTS. 


Mrs.  O. — “ It  was  his  right  hand  hind  leg.  Jump  down, 
Fran9ois  dear,  and  show  the  ladies  what  a cruel  limp  you’ve 
got  yet.” 

Francois  demurred,  but  being  coaxed  and  delivered  gently 
:ipon  the  floor,  he  performed  very  satisfactorily,  with  his 
‘‘  right  hand  hind  leg  ” in  the  air.  All  were  affected — even 
Laura — but  hers  was  an  affection  of  the  stomach.  The 
country-bred  girl  had  not  suspected  that  the  little  whin- 
ing ten-ounce  black  and  tan  reptile,  clad  in  a red  em- 


broidered pigmy  blanket  and  reposing  in  Mrs.  Oreille’s  Jap 
all  through  the  visit  was  the  individual  whose  sufferings, 
had  been  stirring  the  dormant  generosities  of  her  nature. 
She  said : 

‘‘  Poor  little  creature  ! You  might  have  lost  him ! ” 

Mrs.  0. — O pray  don’t  mention  it.  Miss  Hawkins — it 
gives  me  such  a turn  ! ” 

Laura — “ And  Hildebrand  and  Percy — are  they — are 
they  like  this  one  ? ” 

Mrs.  G. — “No,  Hilly  has  considerable  Skye  blood  in  him, 
I believe.” 

Mrs.  II. — “ Percy’s  the  same,  only  he  is  two  months  and 
ten  days  older  and  has  his  ears  cropped. — His  father,  Martin 
Farquhar  Tupper,  was  sickly,  and  died  young,  but  he  was- 


THE  MIDDLE  GtlOUND  ARISTOCKACY. 


311 


the  sweetest  disposition. — His  mother  had  heart  disease  but 
was  very  gentle  and  resigned,  and  a wonderful  ratter.”  * 

So  carried  away  had  the  visitors  become  by  their  interest 
attaching  to  this  discussion  of  family  matters,  that  their  stay 
had  been  prolonged  to  a very  improper  and  unfashionable 
length ; but  they  suddenly  recollected  themselves  now  and 
took  their  departure. 

Laura’s  scorn  was  boundless.  The  more  she  thought  of 
these  people  and  their  extraordinary  talk,  the  more  offen- 
sive they  seemed  to  her ; and  yet  she  confessed  that  if  one 

must  choose  between  the  two  extreme  aristocracies  it  mmht 

« ® 

be  best,  on  the  whole,  looking  at  things  from  a strictly  busi- 
ness point  of  view,  to  herd  with  the  Parvenus;  she  was  in 
Washington  solely  to  compass  a certain  matter  and  to  do  it 
at  any  cost,  and  these  people  might  be  useful  to  her,  while  itl 
was  plain  that  her  purposes  and  her  schemes  for  pushing 
them  would  not  find  favor  in  the  eyes  of  the  Antiques.  If  it 
came  to  choice — and  it  might  come  to  that,  sooner  or  later — 
she  believed  she  could  come  to  a decision  without  much 
difficulty  or  many  pangs. 

But  the  best  aristocracy  of  the  three  Washington  castes, 
and  really  the  most  powerful,  by  far,  was  that  of  the  Middle 
Ground.  It  was  made  up  of  the  families  of  public  men 
from  nearly  every  state  in  the  Union — men  who  held  posi- 
tions in  both  the  executive  and  legislative  branches  of  the 
government,  and  whose  characters  had  been  for  years  blem- 
ishless, both  at  home  and  at  the  capital.  These  gentlemen 
and  their  households  were  unostentatious  people ; they  were 
educated  and  refined ; they  troubled  themselves  but  little 
about  the  two  other  orders  of  nobility,  but  moved  serenely 
in  their  wide  orbit,  confident  in  their  own  strength  and  well 
aware  of  the  potency  of  their  influence.  They  had  no 

* As  impossible  and  exasperating  as  this  conversation  may  sound  to  a person 
who  is  not  an  idiot,  it  is  scarcely  in  any  respect  an  exaggeration  of  one  which  one 
of  us  actually  listened  to  in  an  American  drawing  room — otherwise  we  could 
not  venture  to  put  such  a chapter  into  a book  which  professes  to  deal  with 
social  possibilities. — The  Authors. 


312 


ABOUT  LAURA’S  UNRULY  MEMBER. 


troublesome  appearances  to  keep  up,  no  rivalries  which  they 
cared  to  distress  themselves  about,  no  jealousies  to  fret  over. 
They  could  afford  to  mind  their  own  affairs  and  leave  other 
combinations  to  do  the  same  or  do  otherwise,  just  as  they 
chose.  They  were  people  who  were  beyond  reproach,  and 
that  was  sufficient. 

Senator  Dilworthy  never  came  into  collision  with  any  of 
these  factions.  He  labored  for  them  all  and  with  them  all. 
He  said  that  all  men  were  brethren  and  all  were  entitled  to 
the  honest  unselfish  help  and  countenance  of  a Christian 
laborer  in  the  public  vineyard. 

Laura  concluded,  after  refiection,  to  let  circumstances  deter- 
mine the  course  it  might  be  best  for  her  to  pursue  as  regarded 
the  several  aristocracies. 

Now  it  might  occur  to  the  reader  that  perhaps  Laura  had 
been  somewhat  rudely  suggestive  in  her  remarks  to  Mrs. 
Oreille  when  the  subject  of  corals  was  under  discussion,  but 
it  did  not  occur  to  Laura  herself.  She  was  not  a person  of 
exaggerated  refinement ; indeed  the  society  and  the  influences 
that  had  formed  her  character  had  not  been  of  a nature 
calculated  to  make  her  so ; she  thought  that  “ give  and  take 
was  fair  play,”  and  that  to  parry  an  offensive  thrust  with  a 
sarcasm  was  a neat  and  legitimate  thing  to  do.  She  some- 
times talked  to  people  in  a way  which  some  ladies  would 
consider  actually  shocking ; but  Laura  rather  prided  herself 
upon  some  of  her  exploits  of  that  character.  We  are  sorry 
we  cannot  make  her  a faultless  heroine ; but  we  cannot,  for 
the  reason  that  she  was  human. 

She  considered  herself  a superior  conversationist.  Long 
ago,  when  the  possibility  had  first  been  brought  before  her 
mind  that  some  day  she  might  move  in  Washington  society, 
she  had  recognized  the  fact  that  practiced  -conversational 
powers  would  be  a necessary  weapon  in  that  field  ; she  had 
also  recognized  the  fact  that  since  her  dealings  there  must  be 
mainly  with  men,  and  men  whom  she  supposed  to  be  excep- 
tionally cultivated  and  able,  she  would  need  heavier  shot  in 


PREPARATIONS  FOR  WAR, 


313 


lier  magazine  than  mere  brilliant  ‘^society”  nothings;  where- 
upon she  had  at  once  entered  upon  a tireless  and  elaborate  course 
of  reading,  and  had  never  since  ceased  to  devote  every  unoccu- 
pied moment  to  this  sort  of  preparation.  Having  now 
acquired  a happy  smattering  of  various  information,  she  used 
it  with  good  effect — she  passed  fora  singularly  well  informed 
woman  in  Washington.  The  quality  of  her  literary  tastes 
had  necessarily  undergone  constant  improvement  under  this 
regimen,  and  as  necessarily,  also,  the  quality  of  her  language 
had  improved,  though  it  cannot  be  denied  that  now  and  then 
her  former  condition  of  life  betrayed  itself  in  just  percepti- 
ble inelegancies  of  expression  and  lapses  of  grammar. 


CHAPTER  XXXIY. 

Eet  Jomfru  Haar  drager  steerkere  end  ti  Par  Oxen. 


'HEX  Lanra  had  been  in  Washington  three  months^ 


f T she  was  still  the  same  person,  in  one  respect,  that  sho 
was  when  she  first  arrived  there — that  is  to  say,  she  still  bore 
the  name  of  Laura  Hawkins.  Otherwise  she  was  perceptibly 
changed. — 

She  had  arrived  in  a state  of  grievous  uncertainty  as  to 
what  manner  of  woman  she  was,  physically  and  intellectually, 
as  compared  with  eastern  women  ; she  was  well  satisfied,  now, 
that  her  beauty  was  confessed,  her  mind  a grade  above  the 
average,  and  her  powers  of  fascination  rather  extraordinary. 
So  she  was  at  ease  upon  those  points.  When  she  arrived, 
she  was  posessed  of  habits  of  economy  and  not  possessed  of 
money ; now  she  dressed  elaborately,  gave  but  little  thought 
to  the  cost  of  things,  and  was  very  well  fortified  financially. — 
She  kept  her  mother  and  Washington  freely  supplied  with 
money,  and  did  the  same  by  Col.  Sellers — wdio  always  insisted 
upon  giving  his  note  for  loans — with  interest ; he  w^as  rigid 
upon  that ; she  must  take  interest ; and  one  of  the  Colonel’s 
greatest  satisfactions  was  to  go  over  his  accounts  and  note 
what  a handsome  sum  this  accruing  interest  amounted  to, 
and  what  a comfortable  though  modest  support  it  would  yield 
Laura  in  case  reverses  should  overtake  her.  In  truth  he 
could  not  help  feeling  that  he  was  an  efficient  shield  for  her 
against  poverty  ; and  so,  if  her  expensive  ways  ever  troubled 
him  for  a brief  moment,  he  presently  dismissed  the  thought 
and  said  to  himself.  ‘‘Let  her  go  on — even  if  she  loses 


314 


RUMORS  OF  LAURA’S  VAST  WEALTH. 


315 


everything  she  is  still  safe — this  interest  will  always  afford  her 
a good  easy  income.” 

Laura  was  on  excellent  terms  with  a great  many  members 
of  Congress,  and  there  was  an  undercurrent  of  suspicion  in 
some  quarters  that  she  was  one  of  that  detested  class  known 
as  lobbyists but  what  belle  could  escape  slander  in  such  a 
city  ? Fair-minded  people  declined  to  condemn  her  on  mere 
suspicion,  and  so  the  injurious  talk  made  no  very  damaging 
headway.  She  was  very  gay,  now,  and  very  celebrated,  and 
she  might  well  expect  to  be  assailed  by  many  kinds  of  gossip. 
She  was  growing  used  to  celebrity,  and  could  already  sit  calm 
and  seemingly  unconscious,  under  the  fire  of  fifty  lorgnettes 
in  a theatre,  or  even  overhear  the  low  voice  That’s  she !”  as 
she  passed  along  the  street  without  betraying  annoyance. 

The  whole  air  was  full  of  a vague  vast  scheme  which  was 
to  eventuate  in  filling  Laura’s  pockets  with  millions  of  money ; 
some  had  one  idea  of  the  scheme,  and  some  another,  but 
nobody  had  any  exact  knowledge  upon  the  subject.  All  that 
any  one  felt  sure  about,  was  that  Laura’s  landed  estates  were 
princely  in  value  and  extent,  and  that  the  government  was 
anxious  to  get  hold  of  them  for  public  purposes,  and  that 
Laura  was  willing  to  make  the  sale  but  not  at  all  anxious 
about  the  matter  and  not  at  all  in  a hurry.  It  was  whispered 
that  Senator  Dilwortliy  was  a stumbling  block  in  the  way  of 
an  immediate  sale,  because  he  was  resolved  that  the  govern- 
ment should  not  have  the  lands  except  with  the  understand- 
ing that  they  should  be  devoted  to.  the  uplifting  of  the 
negro  race ; Laura  did  not  care  what  they  were  devoted  to,  it 
was  said,  (a  world  of  very  different  gossip  to  the  contrary  not^ 
withstanding,)  but  there  were  several  other  heirs  and  they 
would  be  guided  entirely  by  the  Senator’s  wishes;  and 
finally,  many  people  averred  that  while  it  would  be  easy  to 
sell  the  lands  to  the  government  for  the  benefit  of  the  negro,, 
by  resorting  to  the  usual  methods  of  influencing  votes. 
Senator  Dilwortliy  was  unwilling  to  have  so  noble  a charity 
sullied  by  any  taint  of  corruption — he  was  resolved  that  not 
a vote  should  be  bought.  Nobody  could  get  anything 
definite  from  Laura  about  these  matters,  and  so  gossip  had 


S16  LAURA'S  REVENGE  AND  WASHINGTON’S  INNOCENCE. 


to  feed  itself  chiefly  upon  guesses.  But  the  effect  of  it  all 
was,  that  Laura  was  considered  to  be  very  wealthy  and 
likely  to  be  vastly  more  so  in  a little  while.  Consequently 
she  was  much  courted  and  as  much  envied.  Her  wealth 
attracted  many  suitors.  Perhaps  they  came  to  worship  her 
riches,  but  they  remained  to  worship  her.  Some  of  the 
noblest  men  of  the  time  succumbed  to  her  fascinations. 
She  frowned  upon  no  lover  when  he  made  his  first  advances, 
but  by  and  by  when  he  was  hopelessly  enthralled,  he  learned 
from  her  own  lips  that  she  had  formed  a resolution  never  to 
marry.  Then  he  would  go  away  hating  and  cursing  the 
whole  sex,  and  she  would  calmly  add  his  scalp  to  her  string, 
while  she  mused  upon  the  bitter  day  that  Col.  Selby  trampled 
her  love  and  her*  pride  in  the  dust.  In  time  it  came  to  be 
eaid  that  her  Avay  was  paved  with  broken  hearts. 

Poor  Washington  gradually  woke  up  to  the  fact  that  he  too 
was  an  intellectual  marvel  as  well  as  his  gifted  sister.  He 
could  not  conceive  how  it  had  come  about  (it  did  not  occur 
to  him  that  the  gossip  about  his  family’s  great  wealth  had 
anything  to  do  with  it).  He  could  not  account  for  it  by  any 
process  of  reasoning,  and  was  simply  obliged  to  accept  the 
fact  and  give  up  trying  to  solve  the  riddle.  He  found  him- 
self dragged  into  society  and  courted,  wondered  at  and  envied 
very  much  as  if  he  were  one  of  those  foreign  barbers  who 
fiit  over  here  now  and  then  with  a self-conferred  title  of 
nobility  and  marry  some  rich  fool’s  absurd  daughter.  Some- 
times at  a dinner  parU’  or  a reception  he  would  find  himself 
the  centre  of  interest,  and  feel  unutterably  uncomfortable  in 
the  discovery.  Being  obliged  to  say  something,  he  would 
mine  his  brain  and  put  in  a blast  and  when  the  smoke  and 
flying  debris  had  cleared  away  the  result  would  be  what 
seemed  to  him  but  a poor  little  intellectual  clod  of  dirt  or 
two,  and  then  he  would  be  astonished  to  see  everybody  as 
lost  in  admiration  as  if  he  had  lu’onght  up  a ton  or  two  of 
virgin  gold.  Every  i-emark  he  made  delighted  his  hearers 
and  compelled  their  applause;  he  overheard  people  say  he 
was  exceedingly  bright — they  were  chiefly  mammas  and 
marriageable  young  ladies.  He  found  that  some  of  his  good 


WASHINGTON  FINDS  HIMSELF  FAMOUS.  31T 

things  were  being  repeated  about  the  town.  Whenever  he 
heard  of  an  instance  of  this  kind,  he  would  keep  that  partic- 
ular remark  in  mind  and  analyze  it  at  home  in  private.  At 
first  he  could  not  see  that  the  remark  was  anything  better 
than  a parrot  might  originate ; but  by  and  by  he  began  to 
feel  that  perhaps  he  underrated  his  powers ; and  after  that 
he  used  to  analyze  his  good  things  wdth  a deal  of  comfort^ 
and  find  in  them  a brilliancy  which  would  have  been  unap- 
parent  to  him  in  earlier  days — and  then  he  would  make  a note 
of  that  good  thing  and  say  it  again  the  first  time  he  found  him- 
self in  a new  company.  Presently  he  had  saved  up  quite  a 
repertoire  of  brilliancies ; and  after  that  he  confined  himself 


DELIBERATE  PERSECUTION. 


to  repeating  these  and  ceased  to  originate  any  more,  lest  he 
might  injure  his  reputation  by  an  unlucky  effort. 

He  was  constantly  having  young  ladies  thrust  upon  his 
notice  at  receptions,  or  left  upon  his  hands  at  parties,  and  in 


318 


WASHINGTON  SEEKS  LIGHT. 


time  he  began  to  feel  that  he  was  being  deliberately  persecu- 
ted in  this  way ; and  after  that  he  could  not  enjoy  society 
because  of  his  constant  dread  of  these  female  ambushes  and  sur- 
prises. He  was  distressed  to  find  that  nearly  every  time  he 
showed  a young  lady  a polite  attention  he  was  straightway 
reported  to  be  engaged  to  her  ; and  as  some  of  these  reports 
got  into  the  newspapers  occasionally,  he  had  to  keep  writing 
to  Louise  that  they  were  lies  and  she  must  believe  in  him  and 
not  mind  them  or  allow  them  to  grieve  her. 

Washington  was  as  much  in  the  dark  as  anybody  with 
regard  to  the  great  wealth  that  was  hovering  in  the  air  and 
seemingly  on  the  point  of  tumbling  into  the  family  pocket. 
Laura  would  give  him  no  satisfaction.  All  she  would  say, 
was : 

“ Wait.  Be  patient.  You  will  see.” 

“ But  will  it  be  soon,  Laura 

“ It  will  not  be  very  long,  I think.’ 

“ But  what  makes  you  think  so  ?” 

“ I have  reasons — and  good  ones.  Just  wait,  and  be 
patient.” 

“ But  is  it  going  to  be  as  much  as  people  say  it  is 

“ What  do  they  say  it  is  ?” 

“ Oh,  ever  so  much.  Millions !” 

“ Yes,  it  will  be  a great  sum.” 

“ But  how  great,  Laura  ? Will  it  be  millions  ?” 

“Yes,  you  may  call  it  that.  Yes,  it  will  be  millions. 
There,  now — does  that  satisfy  you  ?” 

“Splendid!  I can  wait.  I can  wait  patiently — ever  so 
patiently.  Once  I was  near  selling  the  land  for  twenty  thou- 
sand dollars ; once  for  thirty  thousand  dollars  ; once  after  that 
for  seven  thousand  dollars ; and  once  for  forty  thousand 
dollars — but  something  always  told  me  not  to  do  it.  What 
a fool  I would  have  been  to  sell  it  for  such  a beggarly  trifle  ! 
It  t5^the  land  that’s  to  bring  the  money,  isn’t  it  Laura  ? You 
■can  tell  me  that  much,  can’t  you  ?” 

“ YeSj  I don’t  mind  saying  that  much.  It  is  the  land. 


CASTLES  IN  THE  AIR. 


319 


But  mind — don’t  ever  hint  that  you  got  it  from  me.  Don’t 
mention  me  in  the  matter  at  all,  Washington.” 

All  right — I won’t.  Millions  ! Isn’t  it  splendid  ! I mean 
to  look  around  for  a building  lot ; a lot  with  fine  ornamental 
shrubbery  and  all  that  sort  of  thing.  I will  do  it  to-day. 
And  I might  as  well  see  an  architect,  too,  and  get  him  to  go 
to  work  at  a plan  for  a house.  I don’t  intend  to  spare  and 
expense ; I mean  to  have  the  noblest  house  that  money  can 
build.”  Then  after  a pause — he  did  not  notice  Laura’s  smiles 
— “ Laura,  would  you  lay  the  main  hall  in  encaustic  tiles,  or 
just  in  fancy  patterns  of  hard  wood  ?” 

Laura  laughed  a good  old-fashioned  laugh  that  had  more  of 
her  former  natural  self  about  it  than  any  sound  that  had 
issued  from  her  mouth  in  many  weeks.  She  said : 

You  don’t  change,  Washington.  You  still  begin  to 
squander  a fortune  right  and  left  the  instant  you  hear  of 
it  in  the  distance ; you  never  wait  till  the  foremost  dollar  of 
it  arrives  within  a hundred  miles  of  you,” — and  she  kissed 
her  brother  good  bye  and  left  him  weltering  in  his  dreams, 
so  to  speak. 

He  got  up  and  walked  the  fioor  feverishly  during  two 
hours ; and  when  he  sat  down  he  had  married  Louise,  built  a 
house,  reared  a family,  married  them  off,  spent  upwards  of 
eight  hundred  thousand  dollars  on  mere  luxuries,  and  died 
worth  twelve  millions. 


CHAPTER  XXXY. 


“ Mi-x-in  tzakcaamah,  x-in  tzakcolobch  chirech  nu  zaki  caam,  nu  zaki  colo. 
nu  chincu,  nu  galgab,  nu  zalmet  ” 


Rahinal-Achi, 

Chascus  horn  a sas  palmas  deves  se  meteys  yiradas. 


LAPRA  went  down  stairs,  knocked  at  the  study  door, 
and  entered,  scarcely  waiting  for  the  response.  Senator 
Dilworthy  was  alone — with  an  open  Bible  in  his  hand,  upside 
down.  Laura  smiled,  and  said,  forgetting  her  acquired  cor- 
rectness of  speech,  ^ 

‘‘  It  is  only  me.” 

‘‘Ah,  come  in,  sit  down,”  and  the  Senator  closed  the 
book  and  laid  it  down.  “ I wanted  to  see  you.  Time  to 
report  progress  from  the  committee  of  the  whole,”  and  the 
Senator  beamed  with  his  own  congressional  wit. 

“ In  the  committee  of  the  whole  things  are  working  very 
well.  We  have  made  ever  so  much  progress  in  a week.  I 
believe  that  you  and  I together  could  run  this  government 
beautifully,  uncle.” 

The  Senator  beamed  again.  He  liked  to  be  called  “ uncle  ” 
by  this  beautiful  woman. 

“ Did  you  see  Hopperson  last  night  after  the  congressional 
prayer  meeting  ? ” 

“Yes.  He  came.  He’s  a kind  of — ” 

“ Eh  ? he  is  one  of  my  friends,  Laura.  He’s  a fine  man, 

1 1 320 


ONE  OF  THE  SENATOR’S  FRIENDS. 


321 


very  fine  man.  1 don’t  know  any  man  in  congress  I’d 
sooner  to  for  help  in  any  Christian  work.  What  did  he 
say  ? ” ..  .. 

Oh^Jfe  j||eat  around  a little.  He  said  he  should  like  to 
help  th^!negro,  his  heart  went  out  to  the  negro,  and  all  that 
—plenty  of  them  say  that — hut  he  was  a little  afraid  of  the 


Tennessee  Land  bill ; if  Senator  Dilworthy  wasn’t  in  it,  he 
should  suspect  there  was  a fraud  on  the  government.” 

“ He  said  that,  did  he  ? ” 

“Yes.  And  he  said  he  felt  he  couldn’t  vote  for  it.  He 
was  shy.” 

“ Not  shy,  child,  cautious.  He’s  a very  cautious  man.  I 
have  been  with  him  a great  deal  on  conference  committees. 
He  wants  reasons,  good  ones*  Didn’t  you  show  him  he  was 
in  error  about  the  bill  ? ” 

21- 


322 


THE  SENATOR’S  CHRISTIAN  PRINCIPLES. 


“I  did.  I went  over  the  whole  thing.  I had  to  tell  him 
some  of  the  side  arrangements,  some  of  the — ” 

You  didn’t  mention  me  ? ” 

• “ Oh,  no.  I told  him  you  were  daft  about  the  negro  and 
the  philanthropy  part  of  it,  as  you  are.” 

‘‘  Daft  is  a little  strong,  Laura.  But  you  know  that  I 
wouldn’t  touch  this  bill  if  it  were  not  for  the  public  good, 
and  for  the  good  of  the  colored  race,  much  as  I am  interested 
in  the  heirs  of  this  property,  and  would  like  to  have  them 
succeed.” 

Laura  looked  a little  incredulous,  and  the  Senator  pro- 
ceeded. 

“ Don’t  misunderstand  me^  Laura.  I don’t  deny  that  it  is 
for  the  interest  of  all  of  us  that  this  bill  should  go  through, 
and  it  will.  I have  no  concealments  from  you.  But  I have 
one  principle  in  my  public  life,  which  I should  like  you  to 
keep  in  mind  ; it  has  always  been  my  guide.  I never  push  a 
private  interest  if  it  is  not  justified  and  ennobled  by  some 
larger  public  good.  I doubt  if  a Christian  would  be  justified 
in  working  for  his  own  salvation  if  it  was  not  to  aid  in  the 
salvation  of  his  fellow  men.” 

The  Senator  spoke  with  feeling,  and  then  added, 

“ I hope  you  showed  Hopperson  that  our  motives  were 
pure  ? ” 

“ Yes,  and  he  seemed  to  have  a new  light  on  the  measure. 
I think  he  will  vote  for  it.” 

“ I hope  so  ; his  name  will  give  tone  and  strength  to  it.  I 
knew  you  would  only  have  to  show  him  that  it  was  just  and 
pure,  in  order  to  secure  his  cordial  support.” 

“I  think  I convinced  him.  Yes,  1 am  perfectly  sure  he 
will  vote  right  now.” 

“ That’s  good,  that’s  good,”  said  the  Senator,  smiling,  and 
rubbing  his  hands.  “ Is  there  anything  more?  ” 

“ You’ll  find  some  changes  in  that  I guess,”  handing  the 
Senator  a printed  list  of  names.  “ Those  checked  off  are 
all  right.” 

“ Ah — ’m — ’m,”  running  his  eye  down  the  list.  “ That’s 


THE  SENATOR  APPRECIATES  A JOKE. 


323 


encouraging.  "What  is  the  ‘ C ’ before  some  of  the  names, 
and  the  ‘ B.  B.’  ? ” 

“ Those  are  my  private  marks.  That  ‘ C’  stands  for  ^ con- 
vinced,’ with  argument.  The  ‘ B.  B.’  is  a general  sign  for 
a relative.  You  see  it  stands  before  three  of  the  Hon.  Com- 
mittee. I expect  to  see  the  chairman  of  the  committee 
to-day,  Mr.  Buckstone.” 

So  you  must,  he  ought  to  be  seen  without  any  delay. 
Buckstone  is  a worldly  sort  of  a fellow,  but  he  has  charitable 
impulses.  If  we  secure  him  w^e  shall  have  a favorable  report 
by  the  committee,  and  it  will  be  a great  thing  to  be  able  to 
€tate  that  fact  quietly  where  it  will  do  good.” 

“ Oh,  I saw  Senator  Balloon.” 

‘‘  He  will  help  us,  I suppose  ? Balloon  is  a whole-hearted 
fellow.  I can’t  heljp  loving  that  man,  for  all  his  drollery 
and  waggishness.  He  puts  on  an  air  of  levity  sometimes, 
but  there  aint  a man  in  the  senate  knows  the  scriptures  as 
he  does.  He  did  not  make  any  objections  ? ” 

“Hot  exactly,  he  said — shall  I tell  you  what  he  said 2” 
asked  Laura  glancing  furtively  at  him. 

“ Certainly.” 

“ He  said  he  had  no  doubt  it  was  a good  thing ; if  Senator 
Dilwortliy  was  in  it,  it  would  pay  to  look  into  it.” 

The  Senator  laughed,  but  rather  feebly,  and  said,  “Balloon 
is  always  full  of  his  jokes.” 

“I  explained  it  to  him.  He  said  it  was  all  right,  he  only 
wanted  a word  with  you,”  continued  Laura.  “ He  is  a hand- 
some old  gentleman,  and  he  is  gallant  for  an  old  man.” 

“ My  daughter,”  said  the  Senator,  with  a grave  look,  “ I 
trust  there  was  nothing  free  in  his  manner  ? ” 

“Free?”  repeated  Laura,  with  indignation  in  her  face. 
“ With  me! 

“ There,  there,  child.  I meant  nothing.  Balloon  talks  a 
little  freely  sometimes,  with  men.  But  he  is  right  at  heart. 
Mis  term  expires  next  year  and  I fear  we  shall  lose  him,” 

“He  seemed  to  be  packing  the  day  I was  there.  His 


324 


ONE  OF  A SENATOR’S  PRIVILEGES. 


rooms  were  full  of  dry  goods  boxes,  into  which  his  servant 
was  crowding  all  manner  of  old  clothes  and  stuff.  I suppose 


“all  congressmen  do  that.” 


lie  will  paint  ‘ Pub.  Docs  ’ on  them  and  frank  them  home.. 
That’s  good  economy,  isn’t  it  ? ” 

“ Yes,  yes,  but  child,  all  Congressmen  do  that.  It  may 
not  be  strictly  honest,  indeed  it  is  not  unless  he  had  some- 
public  documents  mixed  in  with  the  clothes.” 

“ It’s  a funny  world.  Good-bye,  uncle.  I’m  going  to  see 
that  chairman.” 

And  humming  a cheery  opera  air,  she  departed  to  her 
room  to  dress  for  going  out.  Before  she  did  that,  however, 
she  took  out  her  note  book  and  was  soon  deep  in  its  contents, 
marking,  dashing,  erasing,  figuring,  and  talking  to  herself. 

“ Free ! I wonder  what  Dilworthy  does  think  of  me  anyway  % 
One  . . . two . . . eight . . . seventeen  . . . twenty-one,. . ,’m’m . . . 
it  takes  a heap  for  a majority.  Wouldn’t  Dilworthy  open 
his  eyes  if  he  knew  some  of  the  things  Balloon  did  say  to  me. 
There ....  Hopperson’s  influence  ought  to  count  twenty ...» 


NEWSPAPER  ROW. 


325 


the  sanctifnonious  old  curmudgeon.  Son-indaw ....  sinecure 

in  the  negro  institution That  about  gauges  Jiim 

The  three  committeemen ....  sons-in-law.  Nothing  like  a 
son-in-law  here  in  Washington ....  or  a brother-in-law.... 

And  everybody  has  ’em Let’s  see  ....  sixty-one. . . . with 

places  : . . . . twenty -five . . . persuaded — it  is  getting  on ; . . . . 

we’ll  have  two-thirds  of  Congress  in  time Dilworthy 

must  surely  know  I understand  him.  Uncle  Dilworthy .... 

Uncle  Balloon!...  Tells  very  amusing  stories when 

ladies  are  not  present ....  I should  think  so ’m . . . ’m . 

Eighty-five. . . .There.  I must  find  that  chairman.  Queer 

....  Buckstone  acts Seemed  to  be  in  love I was 

. ^ure  of  it.  He  promised  to  come  here ....  and  he  hasn’t. . . . 
^.Strange.  Yery  strange. ...  I must  chance  to  meet  him  to-day.” 

Laura  dressed  and  went  out,  thinking  she  was  perhaps  too 
•early  for  Mr.  Buckstone  to  come  from  the  house,  but  as  he 
lodged  near  the  bookstore  she  would  drop  in  there  and  keep 
a look  out  for  him. 

While  Laura  is  on  her  errand  to  find  Mr.  Buckstone,  it  may 
not  be  out  of  the  way  to  remark  that  she  knew  quite  as  much 
of  Washington  life  as  Senator  Dilworthy  gave  her  credit  for, 
and  more  than  she  thought  proper  to  tell  him.  She  was 
acquainted  by  this  time  with  a good  many  of  the  young  fel- 
lows of  Newspaper  Bow,  and  exchanged  gossip  with  them  to 
their  mutual  advantage. 

They  were  always  talking  in  the  Bow,  everlastingly  gos- 
-siping,  bantering  and  sarcastically  praising  things,  and  going 
-on  in  a style  which  was  a curious  commingling  of  earnest 
and  persifiage.  Col.  Sellers  liked  this  talk  amazingly,  though 
he  was  sometimes  a little  at  sea  in  it — and  perhaps  that  didn’t 
lessen  the  relish  of  the  conversation  to  the  correspondents. 

It  seems  that  they  had  got  hold  of  the  dry -goods  box  pack- 
ing story  about  Balloon,  one  day,  and  were  talking  it  over 
when  the  Colonel  came  in.  The  Colonel  wanted  to  know  all 
-about  it,  and  Hicks  told  him.  And  then  Hicks  went  on,  with 
.a  serious  air, 

“ Colonel,  if  you  register  a letter,  it  means  that  it  is  of 


326 


DULLNESS  OF  ANCIENT  STATESMEN. 


value,  doesn’t  it  ? And  if  you  pay  fifteen  cents  for  Registering 
it,  the  government  will  have  to  take  extra  care  of  it  and  even 
pay  you  back  its  full  value  if  it  is  lost.  Isn’t  that  so  ?” 

Yes.  I suppose  it’s  so.” 

Well  Senator  Balloon  put  fifteen  cents  worth  of  stamps 
on  each  of  those  seven  huge  boxes  of  old  clothes,  and  shipped 
that  ton  of  second-hand  rubbish,  old  boots  and  pantaloons 
and  what  not  through  the  mails  as  registered  matter  ! It  was 
an  ingenious  thing  and  it  had  a genuine  touch  of  humor  about 
it,  too.  I think  there  is  more  real  talent  among  our  public  men 
of  to-day  than  there  was  among  those  of  old  times — a far  more 
fertile  fancy,  a much  happier  ingenuity.  Now,  Colonel,  can 
you  picture  Jefferson,  or  Washington  or  John  Adams  franking 


their  wardrobes  through  the  mails  and  adding  the  facetious 
idea  of  making  the  government  responsible  for  the  cargo  for 
the  sum  of  one  dollar  and  five  cents  ? Statesmen  were  dull 
creatures  in  those  days.  I have  a much  greater  admiration 
for  Senator  Balloon.” 

‘‘  Yes,  Balloon  is  a man  of  parts,  there  is  no  denying  it.” 


SHARPNESS  OF  SENATOR  BALLOON. 


327 


1 think  so.  He  is  spoken  of  for  the  post  of  Minister  to 
China,  or  Austria,  and  I hope  will  be  appointed.  What  we 
want  abroad  is  good  examples  of  the  national  character. 


COL.  SELLERS  ENLIGHTENING  THE  BOHEMIANS. 


John  Jay  and  Benjamin  Franklin  were  well  enough  in  their 
day,  but  the  nation  has  made  progress  since  then.  Balloon  is 
a man  we  know  and  can  depend  on  to  be  true  to — himself.” 

“Yes,  and  Balloon  has  had  a good  deal  of  public  experi- 
ence. He  is  an  old  friend  of  mine.  He  was  governor  of  one 
of  the  territories  a while,  and  was  very  satisfactory.” 

“ Indeed  he  was.  He  was  ex-officio  Indian  agent,  too. 
Many  a man  would  have  taken  the  Indian  appropriation  and 
devoted  the  money  to  feeding  and  clothing  the  helpless  sav- 
ages, whose  land  had  been  taken  from  them  by  the  white 
man  in  the  interests  of  civilization  ; but  Balloon  knew  their 
needs  better.  He  built  a government  saw-mill  on  the  reser- 
vation with  the  money,  and  the  lumber  sold  for  enormous 
prices — a relative  of  his  did  all  the  work  free  of  charge— that  is 


328 


A PLEA  FOR  BRIBERY. 


to  say  he  charged  nothing  more  than  the  lumber  would  bring.” 

‘‘But  the  poor  Injuns — not  that  I care  much  for  Injuns — 
what  did  he  do  for  them 

“ Gave  them  the  outside  slabs  to  fence  in  the  reservation 
with.  Governor  Balloon  was  nothing  less  than  a father  to 
the  poor  Indians.  But  Balloon  is  not  alone,  we  have  many 
truly  noble  statesmen  in  our  country’s  service  like  Balloon. 
The  Senate  is  full  of  them.  Don’t  you  think  so  Colonel?” 

“ Well,  I dunno.  I honor  my  country’s  public  servants 
as  much  as  any  one  can.  I meet  them.  Sir,  every  day,  and 
the  more  I see  of  them  the  more  I esteem  them  and  the  more 
grateful  I am  that  our  institutions  give  us  the  opportunity  of 
securing  their  services.  Few  lands  are  so  blest.” 

“ That  is  true.  Colonel.  To  be  sure  you  can  buy  now  and 
then  a Senator  or  a Representative ; but  they  do  not  know  it 
is  wrong,  and  so  they  are  not  ashamed  of  it.  They  are  gen- 
tle, and  confiding  and  childlike,  and  in  my  opinion  these  are 
qualities  that  ennoble  them  far  more  than  any  amount  of  sin- 
ful sagacity  could.  I quite  agree  with  you.  Col.  Sellers.” 

“Well” — ^hesitated  the  Colonel — “I  am  afraid  some  of 
them  do  buy  their  seats — yes,  I am  afraid  they  do — but  as  Sen- 
ator Dilworthy  himself  said  to  me,  it  is  sinful, — it  is  very 
wrong — it  is  shameful ; Heaven  protect  me  from  such  a charge. 
That  is  what  Dilworthy  said.  And  yet  when  you  come  to 
look  at  it  you  cannot  deny  that  we  would  have  to  go  with- 
out the  services  of  some  of  our  ablest  men,  sir,  if  the  country 
were  opposed  to — to — bribery.  It  is  a harsh  term.  I do  not 
like  to  use  it.” 

The  Colonel  interrupted  himself  at  this  point  to  meet  an 
engagement  with  the  Austrian  minister,  and  took  his  leave 
with  his  usual  courtly  bow. 


li 


■■it-y.'- 


LIBRARY  ;'• 
OF  THE 

,L'r«r/e?S!tY  CE  !n.  '"rv 


Vl 


• I 

a • 


) 

. t/ 


' ..  . 


LAURA’S  VISIT  TO  THE  BOOK  STORE 


CHAPTER  XXXYL 


•‘Batamadonnin-masinaiganan,  kakina  gaie  onijishinon.” “Missawa  onijish- 

ining  kakina  o-masinaiganan,  kawin  gwetch  o-wabandausinan.” 

Baraga. 


IX  due  time  Laura  alighted  at  the  book  store,  and  began  to 
look  at  the  titles  of  the  handsome  array  of  books  on  the 
counter.  A dapper  clerk  of  perhaps  nineteen  or  twenty 
years,  with  hair  accurately  parted  and  surprisingly  slick, 
came  bustling  up  and  leaned  over  witli  a pretty  smile  and  an 
affable — 

‘‘  Can  I — was  there  any  particular  book  you  wished  to  see  ? ” 
Have  you  Taine’s  England  ? ” 

‘‘  Beg  pardon  ? ” 

^ Taine’s  Xotes  on  England.” 

The  young  gentleman  scratched  the  side  of  his  nose  with 
a cedar  pencil  which  he  took  down 'from  its  bracket  on  the 
side  of  his  head,  and  reflected  a moment : 

‘‘Ah — I see,”  [with  a bright  smile] — “ Train,  you  mean — 
not  Taine.  George  Francis  Train.  Xo,  ma’m  we — ” 

“ I mean  Taine — if  I may  take  the  liberty.” 

The  clerk  reflected  again— then : ^ 

“ Taine ....  Taine  ....  Is  it  hymns  ? ” 

“Xo,  it  isn’t  hymns.  It  is  a volume  that  is  making  a deal 
of  talk  just  now,  and  is  very  widely  known — except  among 
parties  who  sell  it.” 

The  clerk  glanced  at  her  face  to  see  if  a sarcasm  might 

329 


330 


AN  ENTERPKISING  BOOK- SELLER. 


not  lurk  somewhere  in  that  obscure  speech,  but  the  gentle 
simplicity  of  the  beautiful  eyes  that  met  his,  banished  that 
suspicion.  He  went  away  and  conferred  with  the  proprietor. 
Both  appeared  to  be  nonplussed.  They  thought  and  talked, 
and  talked  and  thought  by  turns.  Then  both  came  forward 
and  the  proprietor  said : 

‘‘  Is  it  an  American  book,  ma’m  ? ’’ 

‘‘Ho,  it  is  an  American  reprint  of  an  English  translation.’^ 

“ Oh ! Yes — yes — I remember,  now.  We  are  expecting  it 
every  day.  It  isn’t  out  yet.” 

“ I think  you  must  be  mistaken,  because  you  advertised  it 
a week  ago.” 

“ Why  no — can  that  be  so  ? ” 

“ Yes,  I am  sure  of  it.  And  besides,  here  is  the  book 
itself,  on  the  counter.” 

She  bought  it  and  the  proprietor  retired  from  the  field. 
Then  she  asked  the  clerk  for  the  Autocrat  of  the  Breakfast 
Table — and  was  pained  to  see  the  admiration  her  beauty  had 
inspired  in  him  fade  out  of  his  face.  He  said  with  cold 
dignity,  that  cook  books  Tvere  somewhat  out  of  their  line,  but 
he  would  order  it  if  she  desired  it.  She  said,  no,  never  mind. 
Then  she  fell  to  conning  the  titles  again,  finding  a delight  in 
the  inspection  of  the  Hawthornes,  the  Longfellows,  the 
Tennysons,  and  other  favorites  of  her  idle  hours.  Meantime 
the  clerk’s  eyes  were  busy,  and  no  doubt  his  admiration  was 
returning  again — or  may  be  he  was  only  gauging  her  prob- 
able literary  tastes  by  some  sagacious  system  of  admeasure- 
ment .Mi.),  known  to  his  guild.  How  he  began  to  “ assist” 
her  in  making  a selection ; but  his  efforts  met  with  no  success 
— indeed  they  only  annoyed  her  and  unpleasantly  interrupted 
her  meditations.  Presently,  while  she  was  holding  a copy 
of  “Venetian  Life”  in  her  hand  and  running  over  a familiar 
passage  here  and  there,  the  clerk  said,  briskly,  snatching  up 
a paper-covered  volume  and  striking  the  counter  a smart 
blow  with  it  to  dislodge  the  dust : 

“ How  here  is  a work  that  we’ve  sold  a lot  of.  Everybody 
that’s  read  it  likes  it  ” — and  he  intruded  it  under  her  nose ; 


THE  BOOK  STORE  ANNOYANCE. 


331 


a book  that  I can  recommend — ‘ The  Pirate’s  Doom,  or 
the  Last  of  the  Buccaneers.’  I think  it’s  one  of  the  best 
things  that’s  come  out  this  season.” 

Laura  pushed  it  gently  aside  with  her  hand  and  went  on 
filching  from  “Venetian  Life.” 

“ I believe  I do  not  want  it,”  she  said.  • 

The  clerk  hunted  around  awhile,  glancing  at  one  title  and 
then  another,  but  apparently  not  finding  what  he  wanted.. 
However,  he  succeeded  at  last.  Said  he : 

“ Have  you  ever  read  this,  ma’m  ? I am  sure  you’ll  like  iL 
It’s  by  the  author  of  ‘ The  Hooligans  of  Hackensack.’  It  is 
full  of  love  troubles  and  mysteries  and  all  sorts  of  such  things.. 
The  heroine  strangles  her  own  mother.  Just  glance  at  the 
title  please, — ‘ Gonderil  the  Vampire,  or  The  Dance  of  Death.’ 
And  here  is  ‘ The  Jokist’s  Own  Treasury,  or.  The  Phunny 
Phellow’s  Bosom  Phriend.’  The  funniest  thing  ! — I’ve  read 
it  four  times,  ma’m,  and  I can  laugh  at  the  very  sight  of  it 
yet.  And  ‘ Gonderil,’ — I assure  you  it  is  the  most  splendid- 
book  I ever  read.  I know  you  will  like  these  books,  ma’m^ 
because  I’ve  read  them  myself  and  I know  what  they  are.” 

“Oh,  I was  perplexed — but  I see  how  it  is,  now.  You 
must  have  thought  I asked  you  to  tell  me  what  sort  of  books 
I wanted — for  I am  apt  to  say  things  which  I don’t  really 
mean,  when  I am  absent  minded.  I suppose  I did  ask  yom 
didn’t  I?” 

“Ho  ma’m, — but  I — ” 

“ Yes,  I must  have  done  it,  else  you  would  not  have 
ofiered  your  services,  for  fear  it  might  be  rude.  But  don’t 
be  troubled — it  was  all  my  fault.  I ought  not  to  have  beeu 
so  heedless — I ought  not  to  have  asked  you.” 

“ But  you  didn’t  ask  me,  ma’m.  We  always  help  custom- 
ers all  we  can.  You  see  our  experience — living  right  among- 
books  all  the  time — that  p'  of  thing  makes  us  able  to  help 
a customer  make  a selection,  you  know.” 

“ How  does  it,  indeed  ? It  is  part  of  your  business,  then 

“ Yes’m,  we  always  help.” 

“ How  good  it  is  of  you.  Some  people  would  think  it 


A HALF  HOUli’S  AMUSEMENT. 


532 

Tather  obtrusive,  perhaps,  but  I don’t — I think  it  is  real  kind- 
ness— even  charity.  Some  people  jump  to  conclusions  with- 
out any  thought — you  have  noticed  that 

‘‘  O yes,”  said  the  clerk,  a little  perplexed  as  to  whether  to 
feel  comfortable  or  the  reverse ; “ oh  yes,  indeed,  I’ve  often 
noticed  that,  ma’m.” 

“ Yes,  they  jump  to  conclusions  with  an  absurd  heedless- 
ness. Now  some  people  would  think  it  odd  that  because 
you,  with  the  budding  tastes  and  the  innocent  enthusiasms 
natural  to  your  time  of  life,  enjojnd  the  Yampires  and  the 
volume  of  nursery  jokes,  you  should  imagine  that  an  older 
person  would  delight  in  them  too — but  I do  not  think  it  odd 
at  all.  I think  it  natural — perfectly  natural — in  you.  And 
kind,  too.  You  look  like  a person  who  not  only  finds  a deep 
pleasure  in  any  little  thing  in  the  way  of  literature  that  strikes 
you  forcibly,  but  is  whiling  and  glad  to  share  that  pleasure 
whth  others — and  that,  I think,  is  noble  and  admirable — very 
noble  and  admirable.  I think  w^e  ought  all  to  share  our 
pleasures  with  others,  and  do  what  w^e  can  to  make  each  other 
happy,  do  not  you 

‘‘ Oh,  yes.  Oh,  yes,  indeed.  Yes,  you  are  quite  right, 
ma’m.” 

But  he  was  getting  unmistakably  uncomfortable,  now,  not- 
whthstanding  Laura’s  confiding  sociability  and  almost  affec- 
tionate tone. 

Yes,  indeed.  Many  people  would  think  that  what  a 
bookseller — or  perhaps  his  clerk — know^s  about  literature  as 
literature,  in  contradistinction  to  its  character  as  merchandise, 
would  hardly  be  of  mucli  assistance  to  a person — that  is,  to 
an  adult,  of  course — in  the  selection  of  food  for  the  mind — 
except  of  course  wrapping  paper,  or  twine,  or  wafers,  or 
something  like  that — but  I never  feel  that  w^ay.  I feel  that 
wdiatever  service  you  offer  me,  you  offer  wdth  a good  heart, 
and  I am  as  grateful  for  it  as  if  it  w^ere  the  greatest 
boon  to  me.  And  it  is  useful  to  me — it  is  bound  to  be  so. — 
It  cannot  be  otherwise.  If  you  show’  me  a book  wdiich  you 
have  read — not  skimmed  over  or  merely  glanced  at,  but  read. 


A TORRENT  OF  KIND  WORDS. 


333" 


— and  you  tell  me  that  you  enjoyed  it  and  that  you  could 
read  it  three  or  four  times,  then  I know  what  hook  I want — ” 

“ Thank  you  ! — th — ” 

— “to  avoid.  Yes  indeed.  I think  that  no  information 
ever  comes  amiss  in  this  world.  Once  or  twice  I have  trav- 
eled in  the  cars — and  there  you  know,  the  peanut  boy  always 
measures  you  with  his  eye,  and  hands  you  out  a book  of  mur- 
ders if  you  are  fond  of  theology ; or  Topper  or  a dictionary 
or  To  S.  Arthur  if  you  are  fond  of  poetry  ; or  he  hands  you 
a volume  of  distressing  jokes  or  a copy  of  the  American  Mis- 
cellany if  you  particularly  dislike  that  sort  of  literary  fatty 
degeneration  of  the  heart — just  for  the  world  like  a pleasant- 
spoken  well-meaning  gentleman  in  any  bookstore — . But 
here  I am  running  on  as  if  business  men  had  nothing  to  do 
but  listen  to  women  talk.  You  must  pardon  me,  for  I was 
not  thinking. — And  you  must  let  me  thank  you  again  for 
helping  me.  I read  a good  deal,  and  shall  be  in  nearly  every 
day  ; and  I would  be  sorry  to  have  you  think  me  a customer 


VERY  AGREEABLE. 


who  talks  too  much  and  buys  too  little.  Might  I ask  you' 
to  give  me  the  time  ? Ah — two — twenty -two.  Thank  you 
very  much.  1 will  set  mine  while  I have  the  opportunity.” 


:334 


COMPLETELY  CAPTIVATED. 


But  she  could  not  get  her  watch  open,  apparently.  She 
tried,  and  tried  again.  Then  the  clerk,  trembling  at  his  own 
audacity,  begged  to  be  allowed  to  assist.  She  allowed  him. 
He  succeeded,  and  was  radiant  under  the  sweet  influences  of 
her  pleased  face  and  her  seductively  worded  acknowledge- 
ments with  gratiflcation.  Then  he  gave  her  the  exact  time 
again,  and  anxiously  watched  her  turn  the  hands  slowly  till 
they  reached  the  precise  spot  without  accident  or  loss  of  life, 
and  then  he  looked  as  happy  as  a man  who  had  helped  a fel- 
low being  through  a momentous  undertaking,  and  was  grate- 
ful to  know  that  he  had  not  lived  in  vain.  Laura  thanked 
him  once  more.  The  words  were  music  to  his  ear ; but  what 
were  they  compared  to  the  ravishing  smile  with  which  she 
-flooded  his  whole  system  ? When  she  bowed  her  adieu  and 
turned  away,  he  was  no  longer  suffering  torture  in  the  pil- 
lory where  she  had  had  him  trussed  up  during  so  many  dis- 
tressing moments,  but  he  belonged  to  the  list  of  her  conquests 
and  was  a flattered  and  happy  thrall,  with  the  dawn-light  of 
love  breaking  over  the  eastern  elevations  of  his  heart. 

It  was  about  the  hour,  now,  for  the  chairman  of  the  House 
Committee  on  Benevolent  Appropriations  to  make  his  appear- 
ance, and  Laura  stepped  to  the  door  to  reconnoitre.  She 
glanced  up  the  street,  and  sure  enough— 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 


Usa  ogn’  arte  la  donna,  onde  sia  c6lto 
Nella  sua  rete  aleun  novello  amante ; 

con  tutti,  n^  sempre  un  stesso  volto 
Serba,  ma  cangia  a tempo  atti  e sembiante. 

Tasso. 

That  chairman  was  nowhere  in  sight.  Such  disappoint- 
ments seldom  occur  in  novels,  hut  are  always  happening 
in  real  life. 

She  was  obliged  to  make  a new  plan.  She  sent  him  a 
note,  and  asked  him  to  call  in  the  evening — which  he  did. 

She  received  the  Hon.  Mr.  Buckstone  with  a sunny  smile, 
and  said : 

“ I don’t  know  how  I ever  dared  to  send  you  a note,  Mr. 
Buckstone,  for  you  have  the  reputation  of  not  being  very 
partial  to  our  sex.” 

‘‘Why  I am  sure  my  reputation  does  me  wrong,  then, 
Miss  Hawkins.  I have  been  married  once — is  that  nothing 
in  my  favor  ? ” 

“ Oh,  yes — that  is,  it  may  be  and  it  may  not  be.  If  you 
have  known  what  perfection  is  in  woman,  it  is  fair  to  argue' 
that  inferiority  cannot  interest  you  now.” 

“ Even  if  that  were  the  case  it  could  not  affect  you,  Miss 
Hawkins,”  said  the  chairman  gallantly.  “Fame  does  not 

335 


336  A VISIT  FROM  REPRESENTATIVE  BUCKSTONE. 

place  you  in  the  list  of  ladies  who  rank  below  perfection.’’' 

This  happy  speech  delighted  Mr.  Buckstone  as  much  as  it 
seemed  to  delight  Laura.  But  it  did  not  confuse  him  as 
much  as  it  apparently  did  her. 

I wish  in  all  sincerity  that  I could  he  worthy  of  such  a 
felicitous  compliment  as  that.  But  I am  a woman,  and  so  I 
am  gratified  for  it  just  as  it  is,  and  would  not  have  it  altered.” 

“ But  it  is  not  merely  a compliment — that  is,  an  empty 
compliment — it  is  the  truth.  All  men  will  endorse  that.” 

Laura  looked  pleased,  and  said : 

“ It  is  very  kind  of  you  to  say  it.  It  is  a distinction  indeed,, 
for  a country-bred  girl  like  me  to  be  so  spoken  of  by  people 
of  brains  and  culture.  You  are  so  kind  that  I know  you 
will  pardon  my  putting  you  to  the  trouble  to  come  this  even- 
ing.” 

“Indeed  it  was  no  trouble.  It  was  a pleasure.  I am: 
alone  in  the  world  since  I lost  my  wife,  and  I often  long  for 
the  society  of  your  sex.  Miss  Hawkins,  notwithstanding  what 
people  may  say  to  the  contrary.” 

“ It  is  pleasant  to  hear  you  say  that.  I am  sure  it  must  be 
BO.  If  I feel  lonely  at  times,  because  of  my  exile  from  old 
friends,  although  surrounded  by  new  ones  who  are  already 
very  dear  to  me,  how  much  more  lonely  must  you  feel,  bereft 
as  you  are,  and  with  no  wholesome  relief  from  the  cares  of 
state  that  weigh  you  down.  For  your  own  sake,  as  well  as 
for  the  sake  of  others,  you  ought  to  go  into  society  oftener. 
I seldom  see  you  at  a reception,  and  when  I do  you  do  not 
usually  give  me  very  much  of  your  attention.” 

“I  never  imagined  that  you  wished  it  or  I would  have 
been  very  glad  to  make  myself  happy  in  that  way. — But  one 
seldom  gets  an  opportunity  to  say  more  than  a sentence  to 
you  in  a place  like  that.  You  are  always  the  centre  of  a 
group — a fact  which  you  may  have  noticed  yourself.  But  if 
one  might  come  here — ” 

“ Indeed  you  would  always  find  a hearty  welcome,  Mr. 
Buckstone.  I have  often  wished  you  would  come  and  tell  me 


COQUETTING  BY  EXPERIENCED  HANDS.  337 

more  about  Cairo  and  the  Pyramids,  as  you  once  promised 
me  you  would.’’ 

‘‘Why,  do  you  remember  that  yet,  Miss  Hawkins?  I 
thought  ladies’  memories  were  more  fickle  than  that.” 

“ Oh,  they  are  not  so  fickle  as  gentlemen’s  promises.  And 
besides,  if  I had  been  inclined  to  forget,  I — did  you  not  give 
me  something  by  way  of  a remembrancer 
“Did  I?” 

“ Think.” 

“ It  does  seem  to  me  that  I did ; but  I have  forgotten  what 
it  was  now.” 

“ Never,  never  call  a lady’s  memory  fickle  again ! Do  you 
recognize  this  ?” 

“ A little  spray  of  box  ! I am  beaten — I surrender.  But 
have  you  kept  that  all  this  time  ?” 

Laura’s  confusion  was  very  pretty.  She  tried  to  hide  it, 
but  the  more  she  tried  the  more  manifest  it  became  and  withal 


PLAYING  TO  WIN. 


the  more  captivating  to  look  upon.  Presently  she  threw  the 
spray  of  box  from  her  with  an  annoyed  air,  and  said : 

“ I forgot  myself.  I have  been  very  foolish.  I beg  that 
you  will  forget  this  absurd  thing.” 

Mr.  Buckstone  picked  up  the  spray,  and  sitting  down  by 
Laura’s  side  on  the  sofa,  said : • 

22- 


338 


A RESORT  TO  STRATEGY. 


“ Please  let  me  keep  it,  Miss  Hawkins.  I set  a very  higli 
value  upon  it  now.” 

Give  it  to  me,  Mr.  Buckstone,  and  do  not  speak  so.  I 
Lave  been  sufficiently  punished  for  my  thoughtlessness.  You 
cannot  take  pleasure  in  adding  to  my  distress.  Please  give 
it  to  me.” 

Indeed  I do  not  wish  to  distress  you.  But  do  not  con- 
sider the  matter  so  gravely  ; you  have  done  ^^ourself  no  wrong. 
You  probably  forgot  that  you  had  it ; but  if  you  had  given  it 
to  7ne  I would  have  kept  it — and  not  forgotten  it.” 

“ Do  not  talk  so,  Mr.  Buckstone.  Give  it  to  me,  please, 
and  forget  the  matter.” 

It  would  not  be  kind  to  refuse,  since  it  troubles  you  so, 
and  so  I restore  it.  But  if  you  would  give  me  part  of  it  and 
keep  the  rest — ” 

So  that  you  might  have  something  to  remind  you  of  me 
when  you  wished  to  laugh  at  my  foolishness  ?” 

Oh,  by  no  means,  no  ! Simply  that  I might  remember 
that  I had  once  assisted  to  discomfort  you,  and  be  reminded 
to  do  so  no  more.” 

Laura  looked  up,  and  scanned  his  face  a moment.  She 
was  about  to  break  the  twig,  but  she  hesitated  and  said: 

If  I were  sure  that  you — ” She  threw  the  spray  away, 
and  continued : ‘‘ This  is  silly  ! We  will  change  the  subject. 
Ho,  do  not  insist — I must  have  my  way  in  this.” 

Then  Mr.  Buckstone  drew  off  his  forces  and  proceeded  to 
make  a wily  advance  upon  the  fortress  under  cover  of  care- 
fully-contrived artifices  and  stratagems  of  war.  But  he  con- 
tended with  an  alert  and  suspicious  enemy ; and  so  at  the 
end  of  two  hours  it  was  manifest  to  him  that  he  had  made 
but  little  progress.  Still,  he  had  made  some ; he  was  sure 
of  that. 

Laura  sat  alone  and  communed  with  herself ; 

“ He  is  fairly  hooked,  poor  thing.  I can  play  him  at  my 
leisure  and  land  him  when  I choose.  He  was  all  ready  to 
be  caught,  days  and  days  ago — I saw  that,  very  well.  He 


HOW  EACH  VIEWED  THE  SITUATION. 


339 


■will  vote  for  our  bill — no  fear  about  that ; and  moreover  be 
will  work  for  it,  too,  before  I am  done  with  him.  If  he 
had  a woman’s  eyes  he  would  have  noticed  that  the  spray  of 
box  liad  grown  three  inches  since  he  first  gave  it  to  me , but 
a man  never  sees  anything  and  never  suspects.  If  I had 
shown  him  a wliole  bush  he  would  have  thought  it  was  the 
same.  Well,  it  is  a good  night’s  work : the  committee  is  safe. 
But  this  is  a desperate  game  I am  playing  in  these  days — a 
wearing,  sordid,  heartless  game.  If  I lose,  I lose  everything 
— even  myself.  And  if  I wdn  the  game,  will  it  be  worth  its 
cost  after  all?  I do  not  know.  Sometimes  I doubt.  Some- 
times I half  wish  I had  not  begun.  But  no  matter  ; I ham 
begun,  and  I will  never  turn  back ; never  while  I live.” 

Mr.  Buckstone  indulged  in  a reverie  as  he  walked  home- 
ward : 

“ She  is  shrewd  and  deep,  and  plays  her  cards  with  consid- 
erable discretion — but  she  will  lose,  for  all  that.  There  is  no 
hurry ; I shall  come  out  winner,  all  in  good  time.  She  is 
the  most  beautiful  woman  in  the  world  ; and  she  surpassed 
herself  to-night.  I suppose  I must  vote  for  that  bill,  in  the 
end  maybe  ; but  that  is  not  a matter  of  much  consequence — 
the  government  can  stand  it.  She  is  bent  on  capturing  me, 
that  is  plain  ; but  she  will  find  by  and  by  that  what  she  took 
for  a sleeping  garrison  was  an  ambuscade.” 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 


Now  this  surprising  news  scaus’d  her  fall  in  a trance, 

Life  as  she  were  dead,  no  limbs  she  could  advance, 

Then  her  dear  brother  came,  her  from  the  ground  he  took 
An  . she  spake  up  and  said,  O my  poor  heart  is  broke. 

The  Barnardcastle  Tragtdy^ 


OX’T  you  think  he  is  distinguished  looking  % ” 

“What ! That  gawky  looking  person,  with  Miss  Haw- 


kins 


“ There.  He’s  just  speaking  to  Mrs.  Schoon maker.  Such 
high-bred  negligence  and  unconsciousness.  Nothing  studied. 
See  his  fine  eyes.” 

“Very.  They  are  moving  this  way  now.  Maybe  he  is 
coming  here.  But  he  looks  as  helpless  as  a rag  baby.  Who 
is  he,  Blanche  ?” 

“ Who  is  he  ? And  you’ve  been  here  a week,  Grace,  and 
don’t  know?  He’s  the  catch  of  the  season.  That’s  Washing- 
ton Hawkins — her  brother.” 

“ No,  is  it?  ” 

“ Y ery  old  family,  old  Kentucky  family  I believe.  He’s 
got  enormous  landed  property  in  Tennessee,  I think.  The 
family  lost  everything,  slaves  and  that  sort  of  thing,  you 
' know,  in  the  war.  But  they  have  a great  deal  of  land,  min- 
erals, mines  and  all  that.  Mr.  Hawkins  and  his  sister  too  are 
very  much  interested  in  the  amelioration  of  the  condition  of 
the  colored  race ; they  have  some  plan,  with  Senator  Dil- 
worthy,  to  convert  a large  part  of  their  property  to  something 
another  for  the  freedmen.” 

“ Y ou  don’t  say  so  ? I thought  he  was  some  guy  from 
Pennsylvania.  But  he  is  different  from  others.  Probably 
he  has  lived  all  his  life  on  his  plantation.” 

340 


RECEPTION  DAYS 


S41 


It  was  a day  reception  of  Mrs.  Kepresentative  Schoonmaker, 
a sweet  woman,  of  simple  and  sincere  manners.  Her  house  was 
one  of  the  most  popular  in  W ashington.  There  was  less  ostenta- 
tion there  than  in  some  others,  and  people  liked  to  go  where  the 
■atmosphere  reminded  them  of  the  peace  and  purity  of  home. 
Mrs.  Schoonmaker  was  as  natural  and  unalfected  in  Washing- 
ton society  as  she  was  in  her  own  Hew  York  house,  and  kept 
up  the  spirit  of  home-life  there,  with  her  husband  and  children. 
And  that  was  the  reason,  probably,  why  people  of  refinement 
liked  to  go  there. 

Washington  is  a microcosm,  and  one  can  suit  himself  with 
any  sort  of  society  within  a radius  of  a mile.  To  a large 
portion  of  the  people  who  frequent  Washington  or  dwell 
there,  the  ultra  fashion,  the  shoddy,  the  jobbery  are  as  utterly 
distasteful  as  they  would  be  in  a refined  Hew  England  City. 
Schoonmaker  was  not  exactly  a leader  in  the  House,  but  he 
was  greatly  respected  for  his  fine  talents  and  his  honesty.  Ho 
one  would  have  thought  of  offering  to  carry  Hational  Im- 
provement Directors  Relief  stock  for  him. 

These  day  receptions  were  attended  by  more  women  than 
men,  and  those  interested  in  the  problem  might  have  studied 
the  costumes  of  the  ladies  present,  in  view  of  this  fact,  to 
•discover  whether  women  dress  more  for  the  eyes  of  women 
■or  for  effect  upon  men.  It  is  a very  important  problem,  and 
has  been  a good  deal  discussed,  and  its  solution  would  form 
one  fixed,  philosophical  basis,  upon  which  to  estimate  woman’s 
character.  We  are  inclined  to  take  a medium  ground,  and 
aver  that  woman  dresses  to  please  herself,  and  in  obedience 
to  a law  of  her  own  nature. 

‘‘  They  are  coming  this  way,”  said  Blanche.  People  who 
made  way  for  them  to  pass,  turned  to  look  at  them.  Wash- 
ington began  to  feel  that  the  eyes  of  the  public  were  on  him 
.also,  and  his  eyes  rolled  about,  now  towards  the  ceiling,  now 
.towards  the  floor,  in  an  effort  to  look  unconscious. 

“ Good  morning.  Miss  Hawkins.  Delighted.  Mr.  Haw- 
kins. My  friend.  Miss  Medlar.” 

Mr.  Hawkins,  who  was  endeavoring  to  square  himself  for 


342 


WASHINGTON  HAWKINS  AS  A LION. 


a bow,  put  his  foot  through  the  train  of  Mrs.  Senator  Poplin^ 
who  looked  round  with  a scowl,  which  turned  into  a smile  as 
she  saw  who  it  was.  In  extricating  himself,  Mr.  Hawkins, 


SHE  SAID  “pardon.” 


who  had  the  care  of  his  hat  as  well  as  the  introduction  on  his- 
mind,  shambled  against  Miss  Blanche,  who  said  with 

the  prettiest  accent,  as  if  the  awkwardness  were  her  owm 
And  Mr.  Hawkins  righted  himself. 

“ Don’t  you  find  it  very  warm  to-day,  Mr.  Hawkins  ?”  said 
Blanche,  by  way  of  a remark. 

“ It’s  awful  hot,”  said  Washington. 

“ It’s  warm  for  the  season,”  continued  Blanche  pleasantly. 
“ But  I suppose  you  are  accustomed  to  it,”  she  added,  with  a 
general  idea  that  the  thermometer  always  stands  at  90^  in  all 
parts  of  the  late  slave  states.  “ Washington  weather  gener- 
ally cannot  be  very  congenial  to  you  ?” 

It’s  congenial,”  said  Washington  brightening  up,  ‘‘when 
it’s  not  congealed.” 

“ That’s  very  good.  Did  you  hear,  Grace,  Mr.  Hawkm& 
says  it’s  congenial  when  it’s  not  congealed.” 


NATIONAL  AEFAIRS  INTELLIGENTLY  DISCUSSED  3-13 

^‘What  is,  dear?”  said  Grace,  who  was  talking  with 
Laura. 

The  conversation  was  now  finely  underway.  Washington 
launched  out  an  observation  of  his  own. 

Did  you  see  those  Japs,  Miss  Leavitt  ?” 

Oh,  yes,  aren’t  they  queer.  But  so  high-bred,  so  pictur- 
esque. Do  you  think  that  color  makes  any  difierence,  Mr. 
Hawkins  ? I used  to  be  so  prejudiced  against  color.” 

“ Did  you  ? I never  was.  I used  to  think  my  old  mammy 
was  handsome.” 

“ How  interesting  your  life  must  have  been  ! I should  like 
to  hear  about  it.” 

Washington  was  about  settling  himself  into  his  narrative 
style,  when  Mrs.  Gen.  McFingal  caught  his  eye. 

“ Have  you  been  at  the  Capitol  to-day,  Mr.  Hawkins  ?” 

Washington  had  not.  “ Is  anything  uncommon  going 
on  ?” 

“ They  say  it  was  very  exciting.  The  Alabama  business 
you  know.  Gen.  Sutler,  of  Massachusetts,  defied  England, 
and  they  say  he  wants  war.” 

“ He  wants  to  make  himself  conspicuous  more  like,”  said 
Laura.  He  always,  you  have  noticed,  talks  with  one  eye  on 
the  gallery,  while  the  other  is  on  the  speaker.” 

Well,  my  husband  says,  its  nonsense  to  talk  of  war,  and 
wicked.  He  knows  what  war  is.  If  we  do  have  war,  I hope 
it  will  be  for  the  patriots  of  Cuba.  Don’t  you  think  we  want 
Cuba,  Mr.  Hawkins?” 

I think  we  want  it  bad,”  said  Washington.  “And  Santo 
Domingo.  Senator  Dilworthy  says,  we  are  bound  to  extend 
our  religion  over  the  isles  of  the  sea.  We’ve  got  to  round 
out  our  territory,  and  ” 

Washington’s  further  observations  were  broken  off  by 
Laura,  who  whisked  him  off  to  another  part  of  the  room,  and 
reminded  him  that  they  must  make  their  adieux. 

“How  stupid  and  tiresome  these  people  are,”  she  said. 
“ Let’s  go.” 

They  were  turning  to  say  good-by  to  the  hostess,  when 
Laura’s  attention  was  arrested  by  the  sight  of  a gentleman 


344 


AN  OLD  ACQUAINTANCE  APPEARS. 


who  was  just  speaking  to  Mrs.  Schoonmaker.  For  a second 
her  heart  stopped  beating.  He  was  a handsome  man  of  forty 
and  perhaps  more,  with  grayish  hair  and  whiskers,  and  he 
walked  with  a cane,  as  if  he  were  slightly  lame.  He  might 
be  less  than  forty,  for  his  face  was  worn  into  hard  lines,  and 
he  was  pale. 

Ho.  It  could  not  be,  she  said  to  herself.  It  is  only  a 
resemblance.  But  as  the  gentleman  turned  and  she  saw  his 
full  face,  Laura  put  out  her  hand  and  clutched  Washington’s 
arm  to  prevent  herself  from  falling. 

Washington,  who  was  not  minding  anything,  as  usual 


“ it’s  he  ! it’s  he  ! 


looked  ’round  in  wonder.  Laura’s  eyes  were  blazing  fire  and 
hatred  ; he  had  never  seen  her  look  so  before ; and  her  face 
was  livid. 


LOVE  AND  HATE. 


345 


Why,  what  is  it,  sis  ? Your  face  is  as  white  as  paper.” 

‘‘  It’s  he,  it’s  he.  Come,  come,”  and  she  dragged  him 
away. 

“It’s  who?”  asked  Washington,  when  they  had  gained 
the  carriage. 

“ It’s  nobody,  it’s  nothing.  Did  I say  he  ? I was  faint 
with  the  heat.  Don’t  mention  it.  Don’t  you  speak  of  it,” 
she  added  earnestly,  grasping  his  arm. 

When  she  had  gained  her  room  she  went  to  the  glass  and 
saw  a pallid  and  haggard  face. 

“ My  God,”  she  cried,  “ this  will  never  do.  I should  have 
killed  him,  if  I could.  The  scoundrel  still  lives,  and  dares  to 


REFLECTION. 


come  here.  I ought  to  kill  him.  He  has  no  right  to  live. 
How  I hate  him.  And  yet  I loved  him.  Oh  heavens,  how 
I did  love  that  man.  And  why  didn’t  he  kill  me  ? He 
might  better.  He  did  kill  all  that  was  good  in  me.  Oh,  but 
he  shall  not  escape.  He  shall  not  escape  this  time.  He  may 
have  forgotten.  He  will  find  that  a woman’s  hate  doesn’t 


346 


ONE  GLEAM  OF  HOPE. 


forget.  The  law  ? What  would  the  law  do  but  protect  him 
and  make  me  an  outcast  ? How  all  Washington  would  gather 
up  its  virtuous  skirts  and  avoid  me,  if  it  knew.  I wonder  if 
he  hates  me  as  I do  him 

So  Laura  raved,  in  tears  and  in  rage  by  turns,  tossed  in  a 
tumult  of  passion,  which  she  gave  way  to  with  little  effort  to 
control. 

A servant  came  to  summon  her  to  dinner.  She  had  a head- 
ache. The  hour  came  for  the  President’s  reception.  She 
had  a raving  headache,  and  the  Senator  must  go  without  her. 

That  night  of  agony  was  like  another  night  she  recalled. 
How  vividly  it  all  came  back  to  her.  And  at  that  time  she 
remembered  she  thought  she  might  be  mistaken.  He  might 
come  back  to  her.  Perhaps  he  loved  her,  a little,  after  all. 
^ow,  she  knew  he  did  not.  How,  she  knew  he  was  a cold- 
blooded scoundrel,  without  pity.  Never  a word  in  all  these 
years.  She  had  hoped  he  was  dead.  Did  his  wife  live,  she 
wondered.  She  caught  at  that,  and  it  gave  a new  current  to 
her  thoughts.  Perhaps,  after  all — she  must  see  him.  She 
could  not  live  without  seeing  him.  Would  he  smile  as  in 
the  old  days  when  she  loved  him  so ; or  'would  he  sneer  as 
when  she  last  saw  him  ? If  he  looked  so,  she  hated  him.  If 
he  should  call  her  “ Laura,  darling,”  and  look  so  ! She  must 
find  him.  She  must  end  her  doubts. 

Laura  kept  her  room  for  two  days,  on  one  excuse  and 
another — a nervous  headache,  a cold — to  the  great  anxiety  of 
the  Senator’s  household.  Callers,  who  went  away,  said  she 
had  been  too  gay — they  did  not  say  ‘‘  fast,”  though  some  of 
them  may  have  thought  it.  One  so  conspicuous  and  success- 
ful in  society  as  Laura  could  not  be  out  of  the  way  two  days, 
withoiit  remarks  being  made,  and  not  all  of  them  compli- 
mentary. 

When  she  came  down  she  appeared  as  usual,  a little  pale 
may  be,  but  unchanged  in  manner.  If  there  were  any  deep- 
ened lines  about  the  eyes  they  had  been  concealed.  Her 
course  of  action  was  quite  determined. 

At  breakfast  she  asked  if  any  one  had  heard  any  unusual 


ARMED,  AND  ON  TRACK. 


347 


noise  during  the  night?  Nobody  had.  Washington  never 
heard  any  noise  of  any  kind  after  his  eyes  were  shut.  Some 
people  thought  he  never  did  when  they  were  open  either. 

Senator  Dilworthy  said  he  had  come  in  late.  He  was 
detained  in  a little  consultation  after  the  Congressional  prayer 
meeting.  Perhaps  it  was  his  entrance. 

No,  Laura  said.  She  heard  that.  It  was  later.  She 
might  have  been  nervous,  but  she  fancied  somebody  was 
trying  to  get  into  the  house. 

Mr.  Brierly  humorously  suggested  that  it  might  be,  as 
none  of  the  members  were  occupied  in  night  session. 

■ The  Senator  frowned,  and  said  he  did  not  like  to  hear  that 
kind  of  newspaper  slang.  There  might  be  burglars  about. 

Laura  said  that  very  likely  it  was  only  her  nervousness4 
But  she  thought  she  would  feel  safer  if  Washington  would 
let  her  take  one  of  his  pistols.  Washington  brought  her  one 
of  his  revolvers,  and  instructed  her  in  the  art  of  loading  and 
firing  it. 

During  the  morning  Laura  drove  down  to  Mrs.  Schoon.- 
maker’s  to  pay  a friendly  call. 

“ Your  receptions  are  always  delightful,”  she  said  to  that 
lady,  the  pleasant  people  all  seem  to  come  here.” 

“ It’s  pleasant  to  hear  you  say  so.  Miss  Hawkins.  I believe 
my  friends  like  to  come  here.  Though  society  in  Washington 
is  mixed  ; we  have  a little  of  everything.” 

“ I suppose,  though,  you  don’t  see  much  of  the  old  rebel- 
element  ?”  said  Laura  with  a smile. 

If  this  seemed  to  Mrs.  Schoonmaker  a singular  remark  for 
a lady  to  make,  who  was  meeting  “ rebels  ” in  society  every 
day,  she  did  not  express  it  in  any  way,  but  only  said, 

“ Y ou  know  we  don’t  say  ‘ rebel  ’ anymore.  Before  we 
came  to  Washington  I thought  rebels  would  look  unlike 
other  people.  I find  we  are  very  much  alike,  and  that  kind- 
ness and  good  nature  wear  away  prejudice.  And  then  you 
know  there  are  all  sorts  of  common  interests.  My  husband 
sometimes  says  that  he  doesnT  see  but  confederates  are  just 
as  eager  to  get  at  the  treasury  as  Unionists.  You  know  that. 
Mr.  Schoonmaker  is  on  the  appropriations.” 


:34:8 


AN  INVITATION  CARD. 


“ Does  he  know  many  Southerners 

“ Oh,  yes.  There  were  several  at  my  reception  the  other  day. 
Among  others  a confederate  Colonel — a stranger — handsome 
man  with  gray  hair,  probably  you  didn’t  notice  him,  uses  a 
cane  in  walking.  A very  agreeable  man.  I wondered  why 
he  called.  When  my  husband  came  home  and  looked  over 
the  cards,  he  said  he  had  a cotton  claim.  A real  southerner. 
Perhaps  you  nriight  know  him  if  I could  think  of  his  name. 
Yes,  here’s  his  card — Louisiana.” 

Laura  took  the  card,  looked  at  it  intently  till  she  was  sure 
• of  the  address,  and  then  laid  it  down,  with. 

No,  he  is  no  friend  of  ours.” 

That  afternoon,  Laura  wrote  and  dispatched  the  following 
note.  It  was  in  a round  hand,  unlike  her  flowing  style,  and 
it  was  directed  to  a number  and  street  in  Georgetown : — 

“ A Lady  at  Senator  Dilworthy’s  would  like  to  see  Col.  George  Selby,  on 
business  connected  with  the  Cotton  Claims.  Can  he  call  Wednesday  at  three 
. o’clock  P.  M.  ?” 

On  Wednesday  at  3 P.  M.  no  one  of  the  family  was  likely 
to  be  in  the  house  except  Laura. 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 


— Belhs  amics,  tornatz, 
Per  merce,  vas  me  de  cors. 


Alphonse  IL 


Ala  khambiatii  da  zure  deseina  ? 


Hitz  eman  zeuereitan, 
Ez  behin,  bai  berritan, 
Enia  zinela. 

— Ohikua  niizii ; 

Enuzii  khambiatii, 
Bihotzian  beinin  hartti, 
Eta  zii  i^aithatii. 


Maitia^  nun  zira  ? 


|OL.  SELBY  had  just  come  to  Washington,  and  taken 


\J  lodgings  in  Georgetown.  His  business  was  to  get  pay 
for  some  cotton  that  was  destroyed  during  the  war.  There 
were  many  others  in  Washington  on  the  same  errand,  some 
of  them  with  claims  as  difficult  to  establish  as  his.  A concert 
of  action  was  necessary,  and  he  was  not,  therefore,  at  all  sur- 
prised to  receive  the  note  from  a lady  asking  him  to  call  at 
Senator  Dilworthy’s. 

At  a little  after  three  on  Wednesday  he  rang  the  bell  of 
the  Senator’s  residence.  It  was  a handsome  mansion  on  the 
Square  opposite  the  President’s  house.  The  owner  must  be 
a man  of  great  wealth,  the  Colonel  thought ; perhaps,  who 
knows,  said  he  with  a smile,  he  may  have  got  some  of  my 
cotton  in  exchange  for  salt  and  quinine  after  the  capture  of 
Xew  Orleans.  As  this  thought  passed  through  his  mind  he 
was  looking  at  the  remarkable  figure  of  the  Hero  of  New 
Orleans,  holding  itself  by  main  strength  from  sliding  off  the 
back  of  the  rearing  bronze  horse,  and  lifting  its  hat  in  the 
manner  of  one  who  acknowdedges  the  playing  of  that  martial 
air : See,  the  Conquering  Hero  Comes  ! ” ‘‘  Gad,”  said  the 

Colonel  to  himself,  “ Old  Hickory  ought  to  get  down  and 
give  his  seat  to  Gen.  Sutler — but  they’d  have  to  tie  him  on.”' 


349 


360 


THE  DESTROYER  AND  HIS  VICTIM  MEET. 


Laura  was  in  the  drawing  room.  She  heard  the  bell,  she 
heard  the  steps  in  the  hall,  and  the  emphatic  thud  of  the 
supporting  cane.  She  had  risen  from  her  chair  and  was 
leaning  against  the  piano,  pressing  her  left  hand  against  the 
violent  beating  of  her  heart.  The  door  opened  and  the  Colo- 
nel entered,  standing  in  the  full  light  of  the  opposite  window. 
Laura  was  more  in  the  shadow  and  stood  for  an  instant,  long- 
enough  for  the  Colonel  to  make  the  inward  observation  that 


ONCE  MORE  FACE  TO  FACE. 


she  was  a magnificent  woman.  She  then  advanced  a step. 

Col.  Selby,  is  it  not  ? ” 

The  Colonel  staggered  back,  caught  himself  by  a chair,  and 
turned  towards  her  a look  of  terror. 

“Laura?  My  God!” 

“ Yes,  your  wife  ! ” 

“ Oh,  no,  it  can’t  be.  How  came  you  here  ? I thought 
you  were — ” 

“You  thought  I was  dead?  You  thought  you  were  rid 
of  me?  Hot  so  long  as  you  live.  Col.  Selby,  not  so  long  as 
you  live,”  Laura  in  her  passion  was  hurried  on  to  say. 


BITTER  REPROACHES. 


361 


E"©  man  had  ever  accused  Col.  Selby  of  cowardice.  But 
he  was  a coward  before  this  woman.  May  be  he  was  not  the 
man  he  once  was.  Where  was  his  coolness  ? Where  was  his 
sneering,  imperturbable  manner,  with  which  he  could  have 
met,  and  would  have  met,  any  woman  he  had  wronged,  if 
he  had  only  been  forewarned.  He  felt  now  that  he  must 
temporize,  that  he  must  gain  time.  There  was  danger  in 
Laura’s  tone.  There  was  something  frightful  in  her  calmness. 
Her  steady  eyes  seemed  to  devour  him. 

You  have  ruined  my  life,”  she  said  ; and  I was  so  young, 
so  ignorant,  and  loved  you  so.  You  betrayed^me,  and  left 
me,  mocking  me  and  trampling  me  into  the  dust,  a soiled 
cast-olf.  You  might  better  have  killed  me  then.  Then  I 
should  not  have  hated  you.” 

“ Laura,”  said  the  Colonel,  nerving  himself,  but  still  pale, 
and  speaking  appealingly,  “don’t  say  that.  Beproach  me.  I 
deserve  it.  I was  a scoundrel.  I was  everything  monstrous. 
Bat  your  beauty  made  me  crazy.  You  are  right.  I was  a 
brute  in  leaving  you  as  I did.  But  what  could  I do  ? 1 was 

married,  and — ” 

“ And  your  wife  still  lives  ? ” asked  Laura,  bending  a little 
forward  in  her  eagerness. 

The  Colonel  noticed  the  action,  and  he  almost  said  “ no,” 
but  he  thought  of  the  folly  of  attempting  concealment. 

“Yes.  She  is  here.” 

What  little  color  had  wandered  back  into  Laura’s  face 
forsook  it  again.  Her  heart  stood  still,  her  strength  seemed 
going  from  her  limbs.  Her  last  hope  was  gone.  The  room 
swam  before  her  for  a moment,  and  the  Colonel  stepped 
towards  her,  but  she  waved  him  back,  as  hot  anger  again 
coursed  through  her  veins,  and  said, 

“ And  you  dare  come  with  her,  Jiere^  and  tell  me  of  it,  here 
and  mock  me  with  it ! And  you  think  I will  have  it,  George  ? 
You  think  I will  let  you  live  with  that  woman  ? You  think  I 
am  as  powerless  as  that  day  I fell  dead  at  your  feet  ? ” 

She  raged  now.  She  was  in  a tempest  of  excitement. 
And  she  advanced  towards  him  with  a threatening  mien.  She 


352 


OLDEN  TIMES  AND  OLDEN  MEMORIES. 


would  kill  me  if  she  could,  thought  the  Colonel ; but  he 
thought  at  the  same  moment,  how  beautiful  she  is.  He  had 
recovered  his  head  now.  She  was  lovely  when  he  knew  her, 
then  a simple  country  girl.  How  she  was  dazzling,  in  the 
fullness  of  ripe  womanhood,  a superb  creature,  with  all  the 
fascination  that  a woman  of  the  world  has  for  such  a man 
as  Col.  Selby.  Hothing  of  this  was  lost  on  him.  He  step- 
ped quickly  to  her,  grasped  both  her  hands  in  his,  and  said, 
Laura,  stop ! think ! Suppose  I loved  you  yet ! Suppose 
I hated  my  fate  ! What  can  I do  ? I am  broken  by  the  war. 
I have  lost  everything  almost.  1 had  as  lief  be  dead  and  done 
with  it.  ” 

The  Colonel  spoke  with  a low  remembered  voice  that 
thrilled  through  Laura.  He  was  looking  into  her  eyes  as  he 
had  looked  in  those  old  days,  when  no  birds  of  all  those  that 
sang  in  the  groves  where  they  walked  sang  a note  of  warning. 
He  was  wounded.  He  had  been  punished.  Her  strength 


COL.  SELBY  KNEELS  AND  KISSES  HER  HAND. 

forsook  her  with  her  rage,  and  she  sank  upon  a chair,  sobbing, 
‘‘  Oh  ! my  God,  I thought  I hated  him  !” 

The  Colonel  knelt  beside  her.  He  took  her  hand  and  she 
let  him  keep  it.  She  looked  down  into  his  face,  with  a pitia- 
ble tenderness,  and  said  in  a weak  voice. 


ALAS,  FOR  WOMAN’S  STRENGTH. 


353 


“ And  jou  do  love  me  a little 

The  Colonel  vowed  and  protested.  He  kissed  her  hand 
and  her  lips.  He  swore  his  false  soul  into  perdition. 

She  wanted  love,  this  woman.  W as  not  her  lo  ve  for  George 
Selby  deeper  than  any  other  woman’s  could  be  ? Had  she 
not  a right  to  him  ? Did  he  not  belong  to  her  by  virtue  of 
her  overmastering  passion  ? His  wife — she  was  not  his  wife, 
except  by  the  law.  She  could  not  be.  Even  with  the  law 
she  could  have  no  right  to  stand  between  two  souls  that  were 
one.  It  was  an  infamous  condition  in  society  that  George 
should  be  tied  to  her, 

Laura  thought  this,  believed  it,  because  she  desired  to 
believe  it.  She  came  to  it  as  an  original  proposition,  founded 
on  the  requirements  of  her  own  nature.  She  may  have  heard, 
doubtless  she  had,  similar  theories  that  were  prevalent  at 
that  day,  theories  of  the  tyranny  of  marriage  and  of  the  free- 
dom of  marriage.  She  had  even  heard  women  lecturers  say 
that  marriage  should  only  continue  so  long  as  it  pleased 
either  party  to  it — for  a year,  or  a month,  or  a day.  She 
had  not  given  much  heed  to  this.  But  she  saw  its  justice 
now  in  a flash  of  revealing  desire.  It  must  be  right.  God 
would  not  have  permitted  her  to  love  George  Selby  as  she 
did,  and  him  to  love  her,  if  it  was  right  for  society  to  raise 
up  a barrier  between  them.  He  belonged  to  her.  Had  he 
not  confessed  it  himself  ? 

Hot  even  the  religious  atmosphere  of  Senator  Dil worthy’s 
house  had  been  sufficient  to  instill  into  Laura  that  deep  Chris- 
tian principle  which  had  been  somehow  omitted  in  her  train- 
ing. Indeed  in  that  very  house  had  she  not  heard  women, 
prominent  before  the  country  and  besieging  Congress,  utter 
sentiments  that  fully  justified  the  course  she  was  marking  out 
for  herself  ? 

They  were  seated  now,  side  by  side,  talking  with  more 
calmness.  Laura  was  happy,  or  thought  she  was.  But  it  was 
that  feverish  sort  of  happiness  which  is  snatched  out  of  the 
black  shadow  of  falsehood,  and  is  at  the  moment  recognized 

23- 


354: 


RECKLESS  ABANDONMENT. 


as  fleeting  and  perilous,  and  indulged  tremblingly.  She 
loved.  She  was  loved.  That  is  happiness  certainly.  And 
the  black  past  and  the  troubled  present  and  the  uncertain 
future  could  not  snatch  that  from  her. 

What  did  they  say  as  they  sat  there  ? What  nothings  do 
people  usually  say  in  such  circumstances,  even  if  they  are 
three-score  and  ten  ? It  was  enough  for  Laura  to  hear  his 
voice  and  be  near  him.  It  was  enough  for  him  to  be  near 
her,  and  avoid  committing  himself  as  much  as  he  could. 
Enough  for  him  was  the  present  also.  Had  there  not  always 
been  some  way  out  of  such  scrapes? 

And  yet  Laura  could  not  be  quite  content  without  prying 
into  to-morrow.  How  could  the  Colonel  manage  to  free  him- 
self from  his  wife?  Would  it  be  long?  Could  he  not  go 
into  some  State  where  it  would  not  take  much  time?  He 
could  not  say  exactly.  That  they  must  think  of.  That  they 
must  talk  over.  And  so  on.  Did  this' seem  like  a damnable 
plot  to  Laura  against  the  life,  maybe,  of  a sister,  a woman 
like  herself  ? Probably  not.  It  was  right  that  this  man 
should  be  hers,  and  there  were  some  obstacles  in  the  way. 
That  was  all.  There  are  as  good  reasons  for  bad  actions  as 
for  good  ones,  to  those  who  commit  them.  When  one  has 
broken  the  tenth  commandment,  the  others  are  not  of  much 
account. 

Was  it  unnatural,  therefore,  that  when  George  Selby 
departed,  Laura  should  watch  him  from  the  window,  with  an 
almost  joyful  heart  as  he  went  down  the  sunny  square  ? “I 
shall  see  him  to-morrow,”  she  said,  “and  the  next  day,  and 
the  next.  He  is  mine  now.” 

“ Damn  the  woman,”  said  the  Colonel  as  he  picked  his  way 
down  the  steps.  “ Or,”  he  added,  as  his  thoughts  took  a new 
turn,  “ I wish  my  wife  was  in  Hew  Orleans.” 


CHAPTER  Xli. 


Open  your  ears ; for  which  of  you  will  stop 
The  vent  of  hearing,  when  loud  Rumor  speaks? 

I,  from  the  orient  to  the  drooping  west, 

Making  the  wind  my  post-horse,  still  unfold 
The  acts  commenced  on  this  ball  of  earth : 

Upon  my  tongues  continual  slanders  ride; 

The  which  in  every  language  1 pronounce, 

Stuffing  the  ears  of  men  with  false  reports. 

King  Henry  IV» 

AS  may  be  readily  believed,  Col.  Beriah  Sellers  was  by  this 
time  one  of  the  best  known  men  in  Washington,  ^‘or 
the  first  time  in  his  life  his  talents  had  a fair  field. 

He  was  now  at  the  centre  of  the  manufacture  of  gigantic 
echemes,  of  speculations  of  all  sorts,  of  political  and  social 
gossip.  The  atmosphere  was  full  of  little  and  big  rumors  and 
of  vast,  undefined  expectations.  Everybody  was  in  haste,  too, 
to  push  on  his  private  plan,  and  feverish  in  his  haste,  as  if  in 
constant  apprehension  that  to-morrow  would  be  Judgment 
Day.  Work  while  Congress  is  in  session,  said  the  uneasy 
spirit,  for  in  the  recess  there  is  no  work  and  no  device. 

The  Colonel  enjoyed  this  bustle  and  confusion  amazingly ; 
he  thrived  in  the  air  of  indefinite  expectation.  All  his  own 
schemes  took  larger  shape  and  more  misty  and  majestic  pro- 
portions; and  in  this  congenial  air,  the  Colonel  seemed  even 
to  himself  to  expand  into  something  large  and  mysterious. 
If  he  respected  himself  before,  he  almost  worshipped  Beriah 
Sellers  now,  as  a superior  being.  If  he  could  have  chosen 
an  ofiicial  position  out  of  the  highest,  he  would  have  been 
embarrassed  in  the  selection.  The  presidency  of  the  republic 
eeemed  too  limited  and  cramped  in  the  constitutional 

355 


356 


SELLERS  DROPS  IN  ON  THE  PRESIDENT. 


restrictions.  If  he  could  have  been  Grand  Llama  of  the  United 
States,  that  might  have  come  the  nearest  to  his  idea  of  a 
position.  And  next  to  that  he  would  have  luxuriated  in 
the  irresponsible  omniscience  of  the  Special  Correspondent. 

Col.  Sellers  knew  the  President  very  well,  and  had  access 
to  his  presence  when  officials  were  kept  cooling  their  heels 


JOLLY  GOOD  COMPANY. 


in  the  waiting-room.  The  President  liked  to  hear  the  Col- 
onel talk,  his  voluble  ease  was  a refreshment  after  tho 
decorous  dullness  of  men  who  only  talked  business  and  gov- 
ernment, and  everlastingly  expounded  their  notions  of  justice 
and  the  distribution  of  patronage.  The  Colonel  was  as  much 
a lover  of  farming  and  of  horses  as  Thomas  Jefferson  was. 
He  talked  to  the  President  by  the  hour  about  his  magnifi- 
cent stud,  and  his  plantation  at  Hawkeye,  a kind  of  prin- 
cipality he  represented  it.  He  urged  the  President  to  pay 
him  a visit  during  the  recess,  and  see  his  stock  farm. 

“The  President’s  table  is  well  enough,”  he  used  to  say, 
to  the  loafers  who  gathered  about  him  at  Willard’s,  “ well 
enough  for  a man  on  a salary,  but  God  bless  my  soul,  I 
should  like  him  to  see  a little  old-fashioned  hospitality — 
open  house,  you  know.  A person  seeing  me  at  home  might 
think  I paid  no  attention  to  what  was  in  the  house,  just  let 
things  flow  in  and  out.  He’d  be  mistaken.  What  I look  to 
is  quality,  sir.  The  President  has  variety  enough,  but  tho 


COLONEL’S  VIEW  OF  THE  POLITICAL  SITUATION.  357 

quality!  Vegetables  of  course  yon  can’t  expect  here.  I’na 
Tery  particular  about  mine.  Take  celery,  now — there’s  only 
one  spot  in  this  country  where  celery  will  grow.  But  I am 
surprised  about  the  wines.  I sliould  think  they  were  manu- 
factured in  the  ISTew  York  Custom  House.  I mustfSend  the 
President  some  from  my  cellar.  I was  really  me  rtified  the 
other  day  at  dinner  to  see  Blacque  Bey  leave  his  standing  in 
the  glasses.” 

When  the  Colonel  first  came  to  Washington  he  had 
thoughts  of  taking  the  mission  to  Constanfinople,  in  order  to 
Be  on  the  spot  to  look  after  the  dissemination  of  his  Eye 
Water,  but  as  that  invention  was  not  yet  quite  ready,  the 
project  shrank  a little  in  the  presence  of  vaster  schemes. 
Besides  he  felt  that  he  could  do  the  country  more  good  by 
remaining  at  home.  He  was  one  of  the  Southerners  who 
were  constantly  quoted  as  heartily  ‘‘  accepting  the  situation.” 

I’m  whipped,”  he  used  to  say  with  a jolly  laugh,  the 
^government  was  too  many  for  me ; I’m  cleaned  out,  done  for, 
except  my  plantation  and  private  mansion.  We  played  fora 
big  thing,  and  lost  it,  and  I don’t  whine,  for  one.  I go  for 
putting  the  old  fiag  on  all  the  vacant  lots.  I said  to  the 
President,  says  I,  ‘ Grant,  why  don’t  you  take  Santo  Domingo, 
.annex  the  whole  thing,  and  settle  the  bill  afterwards.’  That’s 
my  way.  I’d  take  the  job  to  manage  Congress.  The  South 
would  come  into  it.  You’ve  got  to  conciliate  the  South, 
^consolidate  the  two  debts,  pay  ’em  off  in  greenbacks,  and  go 
ahead.  That’s  my  notion.  Boutwell’s  got  the  right  notion 
..about  the  value  of  paper,  but  he  lacks  courage.  I should 
like  to  run  the  treasury  department  about  six  months.  I’d 
make  things  plenty,  and  business  lookup.” 

The  Colonel  had  access  to  the  departments.  He  knew  all 
the  senators  and  representatives,  and  especially  the  lobby. 
He  was  consequently  a great  favorite  in  Newspaper  Bow,  and 
was  often  lounging  in  the  offices  there,  dropping  bits  of 
private,  official  information,  which  were  immediately  caught 
up  and  telegraphed  all  over  the  country.  But  it  used  to 
.surprise  even  the  Colonel  when  he  read  it,  it  was  embellished 


358 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  STOLEN  NEWS. 


to  that  degree  that  he  hardly  recognized  it,  and  the  hint  was 
not  lost  on  him.  He  began  to  exaggerate  his  heretofore* 
simple  conversation  to  suit  the  newspaper  demand. 

People  used  to  wonder  in  the  winters  of  18Y-  and  18T-, 
where  the  “ Specials  ’’  got  that  remarkable  information  with 
which  t^^y  every  morning  surprised  the  country,  revealing 
the  most  secret  intentions  of  the  President  and  his  cabinet, 
the  private  thoughts  of  political  leaders,  the  hidden  meaning 
of  every  movement.  This  information  was  furnished  by 
Col.  Sellers. 

When  he  was  asked,  afterwards,  about  the  stolen  copy  of 
the  Alabama  Treaty  which  got  into  the  New  York  Tribune,” 
he  only  looked  mysterious,  and  said  that  neither  he  nor 
Senator  Dilworthy  knew  anything  about  it.  But  those  whom, 
he  was  in  the  habit  of  meeting  occasionally  felt  almost  ceiv 
tain  that  he  did  know. 

It  must  not  be  supposed  that  the  Colonel  in  his  general' 
patriotic  labors  neglected  his  own  affairs.  The  Columbus 
Piver  Navigation  Scheme  absorbed  only  a part  of  his  time, 
so  he  was  enabled  to  throw  quite  a strong  reserve  force  of 
energy  into  the  Tennessee  Land  plan,  a vast  enterprise* 
, commensurate  with  his  abilities,  and  in  the  prosecution  of 
which  he  was  greatly  aided  by  Mr.  Henry  Brierly,  who  was; 
buzzing  about  the  capitol  and  the  hotels  day  and  night,  and 
making  capital  for  it  in  some  mysterious  way. 

‘‘We  must  create  a public  opinion,”  said  Senator  Dil- 
worthy. “ My  only  interest  in  it  is  a public  one,  and  if  the 
country  wants  the  institution.  Congress  will  have  to  yield.” 

It  may  have  been  after  a conversation  between  the  Colonel 
and  Senator  Dilworthy  that  the  following  special  despatch  was- 
sent  to  a New  York  newspaper: — 

“We  understand  that  a philanthropic  plan  is  on  foot  in  relation  to  the  col- 
ored race  that  will,  if  successful,  revolutionize  the  whole  character  of  southern 
industry.  An  experimental  institution  is  in  contemplation  in  Tennessee  which 
will  do  for  that  state  what  the  Industrial  School  at  Zurich  did  for  Switzerland.. 
We  learn  that  approaches  have  been  made  to  the  heirs  of  the  late  Hon.  Silas 
Hawkins  of  Missouri,  in  reference  to  a lease  of  a portion  of  their  valuable  prop- 
erty in  East  Tennessee.  Senator  Dilworthy,  it  is  understood,  is  inflexibly 


THE  COLONEL’S  CAPITAL,  STILL  BEADY  FOR  HIS  FRIENDS.  359 

opposed  to  any  arrangement  that  will  not  give  the  government  absolute  control. 
Private  interests  must  give  way  to  the  public  good.  It  is  to  be  hoped  that  CoL 
Sellers,  who  represents  the  heirs,  will  be  led  to  see  the  matter  in  this  light.” 

When  Washington  Hawkins  read  this  despatch,  he  went 
to  the  Colonel  in  some  anxiety.  He  was  for  a lease,  he 
didn’t  want  to  surrender  anything.  What  did  he  think  the 
government  would  offer?  Two  millions? 

‘‘May  be  three,  may  be  four,”  said  the  Colonel,  “it’s 
worth  more  than  the  bank  of  England.” 

“ If  they  will  not  lease,”  said  Washington,  “ let  ’em  make  it 
two  millions  for  an  undivided  half.  I’m  not  going  to  throw 
it  away,  not  the  whole  of  it.” 

Harry  told  the  Colonel  that  they  must  drive  the  thing 
through,  he  couldn’t  be  dallying  round  Washington  when 
Spring  opened.  Phil  wanted  him,  Phil  had  a great  thing  on 
hand  up  in  Pennsylvania. 

“ What  is  that  ?”  inquired  the  Colonel,  always  ready  to 
interest  himself  in  anything  large. 

“ A mountain  of  coal ; that’s  all.  He’s  going  to  run  a tun- 
nel into  it  in  the  Spring.” 

“ Does  he  want  any  capital  ?”  asked  the  Colonel,  in  the 
tone  of  a man  who  is  given  to  calculating  carefully  before  he 
makes  an  investment. 

“Ho.  Old  man  Bolton’s  behind  him.  He  has  capital^ 
but  I judged  that  he  wanted  my  experience  in  starting.” 

“ If  he  wants  me,  tell  liini  I’ll  come,  after  Congress  ad  journs. 
I should  like  to  give  him  a little  lift.  He  lacks  enterprise — 
now,  about  that  Columbus  Piver.  He  doesn’t  see  his  chances. 
But  he’s  a good  fellow,  and  you  can  tell  him  that  Sellers 
won’t  go  back  on  him.” 

By  the  way,”  asked  Harry,  “ who  is  that  rather  handsome 
party  that’s  hanging  ’round  Laura?  I see  him  with  her 
everywhere,  at  the  Capitol,  in  the  horse  cars,  and  he  comes  to 
Dilworthy’s.  If  he  weren’t  lame,  I should  think  he  was  going 
to  run  off  with  her.” 

“ Oh,  that’s  nothing.  Laura  knows  her  business.  He  has 
A cotton  claim.  Used  to  be  at  Hawkey e during  the  war — 


360 


LAURA’S  PRESENT  LIFE. 


Selby’s  liis  name,  was  a Colonel.  Got  a wife  and  family 
Yery  respectable  people,  the  Selby’s.” 

“Well,  that’s  all  right,”  said  Harry,  “ if  it’s  business.  But 
if  a woman  looked  at  me  as  I’ve  seen  her  at  Selby,  I should 
understand  it.  And  it’s  talked  about,  I can  tell  you.” 

Jealousy  had  no  doubt  sharpened  this  young  gentleman’s 
observation.  Laura  could  not  have  treated  him  with  more 
lofty  condescension  if  she  had  been  the  Queen  of  Sheba, 
on  a royal  visit  to  the  great  republic.  And  he  resented  it, 
and  was  “ huffy  ” when  he  was  with  her,  and  ran  her  errands, 
and  brought  her  gossip,  and  bragged  of  his  intimacy  with 
the  lovely  creature  among  the  fellows  at  Newspaper  Bow. 

Laura’s  life  was  rushing  on  now  in  the  full  stream  of 
intrigue  and  fashionable  dissipation.  She  was  conspicuous 
at  the  balls  of  the  fastest  set,  and  was  suspected  of  being 
present  at  those  doubtful  suppers  that  began  late  and  ended 


SUPPER  OR  BREAKFAST. 


early.  If  Senator  Dilworthy  remonstrated  about  appearances, 
she  had  a way  of  silencing  him.  Perhaps  she  had  some  hold 
on  him,  perhaps  she  was  necessary  to  his  plan  for  ameliorating 
the  condition  of  the  colored  race. 

She  saw  Col.  Selby,  when  the  public  knew  and  when  it  did 
not  know.  She  would  see  him,  whatever  excuses  he  made, 
and  however  he  avoided  her.  She  was  urged  on  by  a fever 
of  love  and  hatred  and  jealousy,  which  alternately  possessed 


IN  FETTERS. 


361 


Her.  Sometimes  she  petted  him,  and  coaxed  him  and  tried 
all  her  fascinations.  And  again  she  threatened  him  and 
reproached  him.  "What  was  he  doing?  Why  had  he  taken  no 
-Steps  to  free  himself  ? Why  didn’t  he  send  his  wife  home  ? 
She  should  have  money  soon.  They  could  go  to  Europe, — 
anywhere.  What  did  she  care  for  talk  ? 

And  he  promised,  and  lied,  and  invented  fresh  excuses  for 
delay,  like  a cowardly  gambler  and  roue  as  he  was,  fearing  to 
break  with  her,  and  half  the  time  unwilling  to  give  her  up. 

“ That  woman  doesn’t  know  what  fear  is,”  he  said  to  him- 
self, “and  she  watches  me  like  a hawk.” 

lie  told  his  wife  that  this  woman  was  a lobbyist,  whom  he 
had  to  tolerate  and  use  in  getting  through  his  claims,  and 
that  he  should  paj  her  and  have  done  with  her,  when  he  suc- 
ceeded. 


CHAPTER  XLI. 

A XXX  A c u»  » ^ 

OoUo  ^ Ua^  ^>[>5 

XJ^X  ^xtf  ^ <Sxx 

to 

TliJ  d-Arooi. 

Egrindano  ygan  daya  ni  baydienetacoric  ? 

Ny  amoriac  enu  mayte,  nic  hura  ecin  gayecxi.  • 

Bern.  d'Echeparre. 

HENEY  Brierly  was  at  the  Dilworthy’s  constantly  and  on 
such  terms  of  intimacy  that  he  came  and  went  without 
question.  The  Senator  was  not  an  inhospitable  man,  he 
liked  to  have  guests  in  his  house,  and  Harry’s  gay  humor  and 
rattling  way  entertained  him  ; for  even  the  most  devout  men 
and  busy  statesmen  must  have  hours  of  relaxation. 

Harry  himself  believed  that  he  was  of  great  service  in  the 
University  business,  and  that  the  success  of  the  scheme 
depended  upon  him  to  a great  degree.  He  spent  many  hours 
in  talking  it  over  with  the  Senator  after  dinner.  He  went 
so  far  as  to  consider  whether  it  would  be  worth  his  while  to 
take  the  professorship  of  civil  engineering  in  the  new  institu- 
tion. 

But  it  was  not  the  Senator’s  society  nor  his  dinners — at 
which  this  scapegrace  remarked  that  there  was  too  much  grace 
and  too  little  wine — which  attracted  him  to  the  house.  The 
fact  was  the  poor  fellow  hung  around  there  day  after  day  for 

362 


FAST  IN  A NET. 


the  chance  of  seeing  Laura  for  five  minutes  at  a time.  For 
her  presence  at  dinner  he  would  endure  the  long  bore  of  the 
Senator’s  talk  afterwards,  while  Laura  was  off  at  some 
assembly,  or  excused  herself  on  the  plea  of  fatigue.  Eow 
and  then  he  accompanied  her  to  some  reception,  and  rarely^ 
on  off  nights,  he  was  blessed  with  her  company  in  the  parlor, 
'when  he  sang,  and  was  chatty  and  vivacious  and  performed 
a hundred  little  tricks  of  imitation  and  ventriloquism,  and 
made  himself  as  entertaining  as  a man  could  be. 

It  puzzled  him  not  a little  that  all  his  fascinations  seemed 
to  go  for  so  little  with  Laura ; it  was  beyond  his  experience 
with  women.  Sometimes  Laura  was  exceedingly  kind  and 
petted  him  a little,  and  took  the  trouble  to  exert  her  powers 
of  pleasing,  and  to  entangle  him  deeper  and  deeper.  But 
this,  it  angered  him  afterwards  to  think,  was  in  private ; in 
public  she  was  beyond  his  reach,  and  never  gave  occasion  to. 
the  suspicion  that  she  had  any  affair  with  him.  He  was 
never  permitted  to  acliieve  the  dignity  of  a serious  flirtation, 
'with  her  in  public. 

‘‘Why  do  you  treat  me  so  ? ” he  once  said,  reproachfully. 

“ Treat  you  how  ? ” asked  Laura  in  a sweet  voice,  lifting  her- 
eyebrows. 

“ You  know  well  enough.  You  let  other  fellows  monopo- 
lize you  in  society,  and  you  are  as  indifferent  to  me  as  if  we 
were  strangers.” 

“ Can  I help  it  if  they  are  attentive,  can  I be  rude  ^ But 
we  are  such  old  friends,  Mr.  Brierly,  that  I didn’t  suppose 
you  would  be  jealous.” 

“ I think  I must  be  a very  old  friend,  then,  by  your  con- 
duct towards  me.  By  the  same  rule  I should  judge  that  Col. 
Selby  must  be  very  new.” 

Laura  looked  up  quickly,  as  if  about  to  return  an 
answer  to  such  impertinence,  but  she  only  said 
of  Col.  Selby,  sauce-box  ? ” 

“ Nothing,  probably,  you’ll  care  for. 
so  much  is  the  town  talk,  that’s  all  ? 


VvliAT  PEOPLE  WERE  SAYING. 


3U 


“ What  do  people  say  ? ” asked  Laura  calmly. 

‘‘  Oh,  they  say  a good  many  things.  You  are  offended, 
though,  to  have  me  speak  of  it  ?” 

“ Not  in  the  least.  You  are  my  true  friend.  I feel  that  I 
can  trust  you.  You  wouldn’t  deceive  me,  Harry?”  throw- 
ing into  her  eyes  a look  of  trust  and  tenderness  that  melted 
away  all  his  petulance  and  distrust.  “ What  do  they  say  ?” 

Some  say  that  you’ve  lost  your  head  about  him ; others 
that  you  don’t  care  any  more  for  him  than  you  do  for  a dozen 
others,  but  that  he  is  completely  fascinated  with  you  and 
about  to  desert  his  wife  ; and  others  say  it  is  nonsense  to  sup- 
pose you  would  entangle  yourself  with  a married  man,  and 
that  your  intimacy  only  arises  from  the  matter  of  the  cotton 
claims,  for  which  he  wants  your  influence  with  Dilwbrthy. 
But  you  know  everybody  is  talked  about  more  or  less  in  W ash- 
ington.  I shouldn’t  care ; but  I wish  you  wouldn’t  have  so 
much  to  do  with  Selby,  Laura,”  continued  Harry,  fancying 
that  he  was  now  upon  such  terms  that  his  advice  would  be 
heeded. 

And  you  believed  these  slanders  ?” 

I don’t  believe  anything  against  you,  Laura,  but  Col. 
’Selby  does  not  mean  you  any  good.  I know  you  wouldn’t 
be  seen  with  him  if  you  knew  his  reputation.” 

“ Do  you  know  him  ?”  Laura  asked,  as  indifferently  as  she 
could. 

“ Only  a little.  I was  at  his  lodgings  in  Georgetown  a 
day  or  two  ago,  with  Col.  Sellers.  Sellers  wanted  to  talk 
with  him  about  some  patent  remedy  he  has,  Eye  Water,  or 
something  of  that  sort,  which  he  wants  to  introduce  into 
Europe.  Selby  is  going  abroad  very  soon.” 
ra  started,  in  spite  of  her  self-control. 

is  wife  ? Does  he  take  his  family  ? Did  you  see 

little  woman,  rather  worn — must  have  been 
Has  three  or  four  children,  one  ot  them 
of  course.  She  said  she  should  be 


ANGRY,  YET  GRATEFUL. 


365* 


glad  enough  to  get  away  from  Washington.  Yon  know 
Selby  has  got  his  claim  allowed,  and  they  say  he  has  had  a 
ran  of  luck  lately  at  Morrissey’s.” 

• Laura  heard  all  this  in  a kind  of  stupor,  looking  straight 
at  Harry,  without  seeing  him.  Is  it  possible,  she  was  think- 
ing, that  this  base  wretch,  after  all  his  promises,  will 
take  his  wife  and  children  and  leave  me?  Is  it  possible 
the  town  is  saying  all  these  things  about  me?  And — a 
look  of  bitterness  coming  into  her  face — does  the  fool 
think  he  can  escape  so  ? 

“You  are  angry  with  me,  Laura,”  said  Harry,  not  compre- 
hending in  the  least  what  was  going  on  in  her  mind. 

“ Angry  ?”  she  said,  forcing  herself  to  come  back  to  his 
presence.  “With  you?  Oh,  no.  I’m  angry  with  the  cruel 
world,  which  pursues  an  independent  woman  as  it  never  does 
a man.  I’m  grafeful  to  you,  Harry  ; I’m  grateful  to  you  for 
telling  me  of  that  odious  man.” 

And  she  rose  from  her  chair  and  gave  him  her  pretty 


A LADY-KILLER  TAMED. 


hand,  which  the  silly  fellow  took,  and  kissed  and  clung  to. 
And  he  said  many  silly  things,  before  she  disengaged 


366 


GOOD  CAME  EVEN  OUT  OF  NAZARETH. 


lierself  gently,  and  left  him,  saying  it  was  time  to  dress,  for 
dinner. 

And  Harry  went  away,  excited,  and  a little  hopeful,  but 
only  a little.  The  happiness  was  only  a gleam,  which  departed 
and  left  him  thoroughly  miserable  She  never  would  love 
him  , ana  she  was  going  to  die  devil,  besides.  He  coaldn’t 
shut  his  eyes  to  what  he  saw,  nor  his  ears  to  what  he  heard  of 
her. 

What  had  come  over  this  trifling  young  lady-killer  ? It  was 
a pity  to  see  such  a gay  butterfly  broken  on  a wheel.  Was 
there  something  good  in  him,  after  all,  that  had  been 
touched  ? He  was  in  fact  madly  in  love  with  this  woman. 
It  is  not  for  us  to  analyze  the  passion  and  say  whether  it 
was  a worthy  one.  It  absorbed  his  whole  nature  and 
made  him  wretched  enough.  If  he  deserved  punishment, 
what  more  would  you  have  ? Perhaps  thfs  love  was  kind- 
ling a new  heroism  in  him. 

He  saw  the  road  on  which  Laura  was  going  clearly  enough, 
though  he  did  not  believe  the  worst  he  heard  of  her.  He 
loved  her  too  passionately  to  credit  that  for  a moment.  And 
it  seemed  to  him  that  if  he  could  compel  her  to  recognize 
her  position,  and  his  own  devotion,  she  might  love  him,  and 
that  he  could  save  her.  His  love  was  so  far  ennobled,  and 
become  a very  different  thing  from  its  beginning  in  Hawkeye, 
Whether  he  ever  thought  that  if  he  could  save  her  from 
ruin,  he  could  give  her  up  himself,  is  doubtful.  Such  a 
pitch  of  virtue  does  not  occur  often  in  real  life,  espec- 
ially in  such  natures  as  Harry’s,  whose  generosity  and 
unselflshness  were  matters  of  temperament  rather  than  habits 
or  principles. 

He  wrote  a long  letter  to  Laura,  an  incoherent,  passionate 
letter,  pouring  out  his  love  as  he  could  not  do  in  her  presence, 
and  warning  her  as  plainly  as  he  dared  of  the  dangers  that 
surrounded  her,  and  the  risks  she  ran  of  compromising  her- 
self in  many  ways. 

Laura  read  the  letter,  with  a little  sigh  may  be,  as  she 


HARRY’S  LETTERS. 


367 


thought  of  other  days,  but  with  contempt  also,  and  she  put 
it  into  the  fire  with  the  thought,  “ They  are  all  alike.” 


CONSUMING  LOVE 


Harry  was  in  the  habit  of  writing  to  Philip  freely,  and 
boasting  also  about  his  doings,  as  he  could  not  help  doing 
and  remain  himself.  Mixed  up  with  his  own  exploits,  and 
his  daily  triumphs  as  a lobbyist,  especially  in  the  matter  of 
the  new  University,  in  which  Harry  was  to  have  something 
handsome,  were  amusing  sketches  of  Washington  society, 
hints  about  Dilworthy,  stories  about  Col.  Sellers,  who  had 
become  a well-known  character,  and  wdse  remarks  upon  the 
machinery  of  private  legislation  for  the  public  good,  which 
greatly  entertained  Philip  in  his  convalescence. 

Laura’s  name  occurred  very  often  in’these  letters,  at  first  in 
casual  mention  as  the  belle  of  the  season,  carrying  everything 
before  her  with  her  wit  and  beauty,  and  then  more  seriously, 
as  if  Harry  did  not  exactly  like  so  much  general  admiration 
of  her,  and  was  a little  nettled  by  her  treatment  of  him. 


368 


PHILIP  TO  THE  KESCUE. 


This  was  so  different  from  Harry’s  usual  tone  about  women, 
that  Philip  wondered  a good  deal  over  it.  Could  it  be  possi- 
ble that  he  was  seriously  affected  ? Then  came  stories  about 
Laura,  town  talk,  gossip  which  Harry  denied  the  truth  of 
indignantly ; but  he  was  evidently  uneasy,  and  at  length 
wrote  in  such  miserable  spirits  that  Philip  asked  him  squarely 
what  the  trouble  was  ; was  he  in  love  ? 

Upon  this,  Harry  made  a clean  breast  of  it,  and  told  Philip 
all  he  knew  about  the  Selby  affair,  and  Laura’s  treatment  of 
him,  sometimes  encouraging  him  and  then  throwing  him  off, 
and  finally  his  belief  that  she  would  go  to  the  bad  if  something 
was  not  done  to  arouse  her  from  her  infatuation.  He  wished 
Philip  was  in  Washington.  He  knew  Laura,  and  she  had  a 
great  respect  for  his  character,  his  opinions,  his  judgment. 
Perhaps  he,  as  an  uninterested  person  in  whom  she  would  have 
some  confidence,  and  as  one  of  the  public,  could  say  some- 
thing to  her  that  would  show  her  where  she  stood. 

Philip  saw  the  situation  clearly  enough.  Of  Laura  he 
knew  not  much,  except  that  she  was  a woman  of  uncommon 
fascination,  and  he  thought  from  what  he  had  seen  of  her  in 
Hawkeye,  her  conduct  towards  him  and  towards  Harry,  of 
not  too  much  principle.  Of  course  he  knew  nothing  of  her 
history ; he  knew  nothing  seriously  against  her,  and  if*  Harry 
was  desperately  enamored  of  her,  why  should  he  not  win  her 
if  he  could.  If,  however,  she  had  already  become  what  Harry 
uneasily  felt  she  might  become,  was  it  not  his  duty  to  go  to 
the  rescue  of  his  friend  and  try  to  save  him  from  any  rash 
act  on  account  of  a woman  that  might  prove  to  be  entirely 
unworthy  of  him  ; for  trifier  and  visionary  as  he  was,  Harry 
deserved  a better  fate  than  this. 

Philip  determined  to  go  to  Washington  and  see  for  him- 
self. He  had  other  reasons  also.  He  began  to  know  enough 
of  Mr.  Bolton’s  affairs  to  be  uneasy.  Pennybacker  had  been 
there  several  times  during  the  winter,  and  he  suspected  that 
he  was  involving  Mr.  Bolton  in  some  doubtful  scheme. 
Pennybacker  was  in  Washington,  and  Philip  thought  he 


A CONVERT  TO  WOMEN’S  RIGHTS. 


369 


■might  perhaps  find  out  something  about  him,  and  his  plans, 
that  would  be  of  service  to  Mr.  Bolton. 

Philip  had  enjoyed  his  winter  very  well,  for  a man  -with 
his  arm  broken  and  his  head  smashed.  With  two  such  nurses 
as  Ruth  and  Alice,  illness  seemed  to  him  rather  a nice  holi- 
day, and  every  moment  of  his  convalescence  had  been  precious 
and  all  too  fleeting.  With  a young  fellow  of  the  habits  of 
Philip,  such  injuries  cannot  be  counted  on  to  tarry  long,  even 
for  the  purpose  of  love-making,  and  Philip  found  himself 
getting  strong  with  even  disagreeable  rapidity. 

During  his  first  weeks  of  pain  and  weakness,  Ruth  was 
unceasing  in  her  ministrations ; she  quietly  took  charge  of 
him,  and  with  a gentle  firmness  resisted  all  attempts  of  Alice 
or  any  one  else  to  share  to  any  great  extent  the  burden  with 
her.  She  was  clear,  decisive  and  peremptory  in  whatever  she 
did  ; but  often  when  Philip  opened  his  eyes  in  those  first  days 
of  suffering  and  found  her  standing  by  his  bedside,  he  saw  a 
look  of  tenderness  in  her  anxious  face  that  quickened  his 
already  feverish  pulse,  a look  that  remained  in  his  heart  long 
after  he  closed  his  eyes.  Sometimes  he  felt  her  hand  on  his 
forehead,  and  did  not  open  his  eyes  for  fear  she  would  take 
it  away.  He  watched  for  her  coming  to  his  chamber ; he 
could  distinguish  her  light  footstep  from  all  others.  If  this 
is  what  is  meant  by  women  practicing  medicine,  thought 
Philip  to  himself,  I like  it. 

“ Ruth,”  said  he  one  day  when  he  was  getting  to  be  quite 
himself,  “ I believe  in  it 
“ Believe  in  what 
‘‘  Why,  in  women  physicians.” 

Then,  I’d  better  call  in  Mrs.  Dr.  Longstreet.” 

Oh,  no.  One  will  do,  one  at  a time.  I think  I should 
be  well  to-morrow,  if  I thought  I should  never  have  any 
other.” 

Thy  physician  thinks  thee  mustn’t  talk,  Philip,”  said  Ruth 
putting  her  finger  on  his  lips. 

“ But,  Ruth,  I want  to  tell  you  that  I should  wish  I never 
had  got  well  if — ” 

24- 


370 


A DOCTOR'S  SUBSTITUTE. 


There,  there,  thee  must  not  talk.  Thee  is  wandering 
again,”  and  Euth  closed  his  lips,  with  a smile  on  her  own  that 
broadened  into  a merry  laugh  as  she  ran  away. 

Philip  was  not  weary,  however,  of  making  these  attempts, 
he  rather  enjoyed  it.  But  whenever  he  inclined  to  be  senti- 
mental, Ruth  would  cut  him  otf,  wdth  some  such  gravelv  con- 
ceived speech  as,  ''  Does  thee  think  that  thy  physician  will 
take  advantage  of  the  condition  of  a man  who  is  as  weak 


A CONVERT  TO  WOMEN’S  RIGHTS. 


as  thee  is  ? I will  call  Alice,  if  thee  has  any  dying  confes- 
sions to  make.” 

As  Philip  convalesced,  Alice  more  and  more  took  Ruth’s 
place  as  his  entertainer,  and  read  to  him  by  the  hour,  when 
he  did  not  want  to  talk — to  talk  about  Ruth,  as  he  did  a good 
deal  of  the  time.  Nor  was  this  altogether  unsatisfactory  to 
Philip.  He  was  always  happy  and  contented  with  Alice. 
She  was  the  most  restful  person  he  knew.  Better  informed 
than  Ruth  and  with  a much  more  varied  culture,  and  bright 
and  sympathetic,  he  was  never  weary  of  her  company,  if  he 
was  not  greatly  excited  by  it.  She  had  upon  his  mind  that 
peaceful  influence  that  Mrs.  Bolton  had  when,  occasionally, 
she  sat  by  his  bedside  with  her  work.  Some  people  have 
this  influence,  which  is  like  an  emanation.  They  bring  peace 
to  a house,  they  diffuse  serene  content  in  a room  full  of  mixed 


PHILIP  TRUE  AS  STEEL. 


371 


company,  though  they  may  say  very  little,  and  are  apparently 
unconscious  of  their  own  power, 

Not  that  Philip  did  not  long  for  Puth’s  presence  all  the 
same.  Since  he  was  well  enough  to  be  about  the  house,  she 
was  busy  again  with  her  studies.  Now  and  then  her  teasing 
humor  came  again.  She  always  had  a playful  shield  against 
his  sentiment.  Philip  used  sometimes  to  declare  that  she  had 
no  sentiment ; and  then  he  doubted  if  he  should  be  pleased 
with  her  after  all  if  she  were  at  all  sentimental ; and  he 
rejoiced  that  she  had,  in  such  matters,  what  he  called  the  airy 
grace  of  sanity.  She  was  the  most  gay  serious  person  he  ever 
saw. 

Perhaps  he  was  not  so  much  at  rest  or  so  contented  with 
her  as  with  Alice.  But  then  he  loved  her.  And  wnat  have 
rest  and  contentment  to  do  with  love  2 


CHAPTER  XLIL 


Siibtle.  Would  I were  hang’d  then ! I’ll  conform  myself 
Dol.  Will  you,  sir?  do  so  then,  and  quickly  : swear. 

Sub.  What  should  I swear? 

Bol.  To  leave  your  faction,  sir, 

And  labour  kindly  in  the  common  work. 

The  Alchemist, 

Eku  edue  mfine,  mfine  ata  eku  : miduehe  mfine,  mfine  itaha. 

Epik  Proverb. 

Mr.  Buckstone’s  campaign  was  brief — much  briefer  than 
he  supposed  it  would  be.  He  began  it  purposing  to 
win  Laura  without  being  won  himself ; but  his  experience 
was  that  of  all  who  had  fought  on  that  field  before  him ; he 
diligently  continued  his  eflbrt  to  win  her,  but  he  presently 
found  that  while  as  yet  he  could  not  feel  entirely  certain  of 
having  won  her,  it  was  very  manifest  that  she  had  won  him. 
He  had  made  an  able  fight,  brief  as  it  was,  and  that  at  least 
was  to  his  credit.  He  was  in  good  company,  now ; he  walked 
in  a leash  of  conspicuous  captives.  These  unfortunates  fol- 
lowed Laura  helplessly,  for  whenever  she  took  a prisoner  he 
remained  her  slave  henceforth.  Sometimes  they  chafed  in 
their  bondage  ; sometimes  they  tore  themselves  free  and  said 
their  serfdom  was  ended ; but  sooner  or  later  they  always 
came  back  penitent  and  worshiping.  Laura  pursued  her  usual 
course  : she  encouraged  Mr.  Buckstone  by  turns,  and  by  turns 
she  harassed  him ; she  exalted  him  to  the  clouds  at  one  time, 
and  at  another  she  dragged  him  down  again.  She  constituted 

372 


A BITTER  ENEMY  CONSIDERED. 


373 


him  chief  champion  of  the  Knobs  University  bill,  and  he 
accepted  the  position,  at  first  reluctantly,  but  later  as  a valued 
means  of  serving  her — he  even  came  to  look  upon  it  as  a 
piece  of  great  good  fortune,  since  it  brought  him  into  such 
frequent  contact  with  her. 

Through  him  she  learned  that  the  Hon.  Mr.  Trollop  was  a 
bitter  enemy  of  her  bill.  He  urged  her  not  to  attempt  to 
infiuence  Mr.  Trollop  in  any  way,  and  explained  that  what- 
ever she  might  attempt  in  that  direction  would  surely  be 
used  against  her  and  with  damaging  efiect. 

She  at  first  said  she  knew  Mr.  Trollop,  and  was  aware 
that  he  had  a Blank-Blank  but  Mr.  Buckstone  said  that 
while  he  was  not  able  to  conceive  what  so  curious  a phrase  as 
Blank-Blank  might  mean,  and  had  no  wish  to  pry  into  the 
matter,  since  it  was  probably  private,  he  “ would  nevertheless 
venture  the  blind  assertion  that  nothing  would  answer  in  this 
particular  case  and  during  this  particular  session  but  to  be 
exceedingly  wary  and- keep  clear  away  from  Mr.  Trollop; 
any  other  course  would  be  fatal.” 

It  seemed  that  nothing  could  be  done.  Laura  was  seriously 
troubled.  Everything  was  looking  well,  and  yet  it  was  plain 
that  one  vigorous  and  determined  enemy  might  eventually 
succeed  in  overthrowing  all  her  plans.  A suggestion  came 
into  her  mind  presently  and  she  said  : 

“ Can’t  you  fight  against  his  great  Pension  bill  and  bring 
him  to  terms 

“ Oh,  never ; he  and  I are  sworn  brothers  on  that  measure  ; 
we  work  in  harness  and  are  very  loving — I do  everything  I 
possibly  can  for  him  there.  But  I work  with  might  and  main 
against  his  Immigration  bill, — as  pertinaciously  and  as  vin- 
dictively, indeed,  as  he  works  against  our  University.  We 
hate  each  other  through  half  a conversation  and  are  all  affec- 
tion through  the  other  half.  We  understand  each  other. 
He  is  an  admirable  worker  outside  the  capitol ; he  will  do 
more  for  the  Pension  bill  than  any  other  man  could  do;  I 
wish  he  would  make  the  great  speech  on  it  which  he  wants 


* Her  private  figure  of  speech  for  Brother— or  Son-in-law. 


374 


PLAN  OF  ATTACK  ADOPTED. 


to  make — and  then  I would  make  another  and  we  would  be 
safe.” 

“ Well  if  he  wants  to  make  a great  speech  why  doesn’t  he  do 
it  ?” 

Visitors  interrupted  the  conversation  and  Mr.  Buckstone 
took  his  leave.  It  was  not  of  the  least  moment  to  Laura  that 
her  question  had  not  been  answered,  inasmuch  as  it  concerned 
a thing  which  did  not  interest  her ; and  yet,  human  being 
like,  she  thought  she  would  have  liked  to  know.  An  oppor- 
tunity occurring  presently,  she  put  the  same  question  to 
another  person  and  got  an  answer  that  satisfied  her.  She 
pondered  a good  while,  that  night,  after  she  had  gone  to  bed,, 
and  when  she  finally  turned  over  to  go  to  sleep,  she  had 
thought  out  a new  scheme.  The  next  evening  at  Mrs.  Glov* 
erson’s  party,  she  said  to  Mr.  Buckstone : . 

“ I want  Mr.  Trollop  to  make  his  great  speech  on  the  Pen- 
sion bill.” 

‘‘  Do  you ! But  you  remember  I was  interrupted,  and  did 
not  explain  to  you — ” 

“Never  mind,  I know.  You  must  make  him  make  that 
speech.  I very  particularly  desire  it.” 

“ Oh,  it  is  easy  to  say  make  him  do  it,  but  Jiow  am  I to- 
make  him  ?” 

“ It  is  perfectly  easy ; I have  thought  it  all  out.” 

She  then  went  into  the  details.  At  length  Mr.  Buckstone- 
said : 

“ I see  now.  I can  manage  it,  I am  sure.  Indeed  I won- 
der he  never  thought  of  it  himself — there  are  no  end  of  pre- 
cedents. But  how  is  this  going  to  benefit  you,  after  I Jime 
managed  it  ? There  is  where  the  mystery  lies.” 

“But  I will  take  care  of  that.  It  will  benefit  me  a great 
deal.” 

“ I only  wish  I could  see  how  ; it  is  the  oddest  freak.  You 
seem  to  go  the  furthest  around  to  get  at  a thing — but  you  are 
in  earnest,  aren’t  you  ?” 

“ Yes,  I am,  indeed.” 


THE  TKAP  SET. 


375 


“ Yery  well,  I will  do  it — but  why  not  tell  me  how  you 
imagine  it  is  going  to  help  you 

“I  will,  by  and  by. — Now  there  is  nobody  talking  to  him. 
Go  straight  and  do  it,  there’s  a good  fellow.” 

A moment  or  two  later  the  two  sworn  friends  of  the  Pen- 
sion bill  were  talking  together,  earnestly,  and  seemingly 


OPENING  NEGOTIATIONS. 


unconscious  of  the  moving  throng  about  them.  They  talked 
an  hour,  and  then  Mr.  Buckstone  came  back  and  said : 

“ He  hardly  fancied  it  at  first,  but  he  fell  in  love  with  it 
after  a bit.  And  we  have  made  a compact,  too.  I am  to 
keep  his  secret  and  he  is  to  spare  me,  in  future,  when  he 
gets  ready  to  denounce  the  supporters  of  the  University  bill 
— and  I can  easily  believe  he  will  keep  his  word  on  this  occa- 
sion.” 

A fortnight  elapsed,  and  the  University  bill  had  gathered 
to  itself  many  friends,  meantime.  Senator  Dilworthy  began 
to  think  the  harvest  was  ripe.  He  conferred  with  Laura  pri- 
vately. She  was  able  to  tell  him  exactly  how  the  House 
would  vote.  There  was  a majority — the  bill  would  pass, 


ST6 


MR.  TROLLOP  VISITS  LAURA. 


unless  weak  members  got  frightened  at  the  last,  and  deserted — a 
thing  pretty  likely  to  occur.  The  Senator  said  : 

“ I wish  we  had  one  more  good  strong  man.  Now  Trollop 
ought  to  be  on  our  side,  for  he  is  a friend  of  the  negro.  But 
he  is  against  us,  and  is  our  bitterest  opponent.  If  he  would 
simply  vote  No,  but  keep  quiet  and  not  molest  us,  I would 
feel  perfectly  cheerful  and  content.  But  perhaps  there  is  no 
use  in  thinking  of  that.” 

Why  I laid  a little  plan  for  his  benefit  two  weeks  ago. 
I think  he  will  be  tractable,  maybe.  He  is  to  come  here  to- 
night.” 

“Look  out  for  him,  my  child  ! He  means  mischief,  sure. 
It  is  said  that  he  claims  to  know  of  improper  practices  having 
been  used  in  the  interest  of  this  bill,  and  he  thinks  he 
sees  a chance  to  make  a great  sensation  when  the  bill 
comes  up.  Be  wary.  Be  very,  veiy  careful,  my  dear. 
Do  your  very  ablest  talking,  now.  You  can  convince  a man 
of  anything,  when  you  try.  You  must  convince  him  that  if 
anything  improper  has  been  done,  you  at  least  are  ignorant 
of  it  and  sorry  for  it.  And  if  you  could  only  persuade 
him  out  of  his  hostility  to  the  bill,  too — but  don’t  over- 
do the  thing ; don’t  seem  too  anxious,  dear.” 

“ I won’t ; I’ll  be  ever  so  careful.  I’ll  talk  as  sweetly  to 
him  as  if  he  were  my  own  child  ! You  may  trust  me — indeed 
you  may.” 

The  door-bell  rang. 

“ That  is  the  gentleman  now,”  said  Laura.  Senator  Dil- 
worthy  retired  to  his  study. 

Laura  welcomed  Mr.  Trollop,  a grave,  carefully  dressed 
and  very  respectable  looking  man,  with  a bald  head,  standing 
collar  and  old  fashioned  watch  seals. 

“ Promptness  is  a virtue,  Mr.  Trollop,  and  I perceive  that 
you  have  it.  You  are  always  prompt  with  me.” 

“I  always  meet  my  engagements,  of  every  kind.  Miss 
Hawkins.” 

“ It  is  a quality  which  is  rarer  in  the  world  than  it  has 


PllELIMIN  ARIES.  377 

Leen,  I believe.  I wished  to  see  you  on  business,  Mr.  Trol- 
lop.” 

“ I judged  so.  What  can  I do  for  3^011  ?” 

“ You  know  my  bill — the  Knobs  University  bill  ?” 

“Ah,  I believe  it  is  your  bill.  I had  forgotten.  Yes,  I 
know  the  bill.” 

“Well,  would  you  niii.d  telling  me  your  opinion  of  it?” 

“ Indeed,  since  you  seem  to  ask  it  without  reserve,  I am 
obliged  to  say  that  I do  not  regard  it  favorably.  I have  not 
seen  the  bill  itself,  but  fj’om  wdiat  I can  hear,  it — it — well,  it 
has  a bad  look  about  it.  It — ” 

“ Speak  it  out — never  fear.” 

“Well,  it — they  sa}'  it  contemplates  a fraud  upon  the  gov- 
ernment.” 

“ Well  ?”  said  Laura  tranquilly. 

“ Well ! I say  ‘ W ell  ? ’ too.” 

“Well,  suppose  it  we7'e  a fraud — which  I feel  able  to  deny 
— would  it  be  the  first  one  ? ” 

“You  take  a body’s  breath  away!  Would  ^mu — did  you 
wish  me  to  vote  for  it?  Was  that  what  you  wanted  to  see 
me  about  ? ” 

“ Your  instinct  is  correct.  I did  want  3’ou — I do  w^ant  you 
to  vote  for  it.” 

“ Yote  fora  fr — for  a measure  which  is  generally  believed 
to  be  at  least  questionable  ? I am  afraid  we  cannot  come  to 
an  understanding.  Miss  Hawkins.” 

“ Ko,  I am  afraid  not — if  you  have  resumed  your  princi- 
ples, Mr.  Trollop.” 

“ Did  you  send  for  me  merely  to  insult  me  ? It  is  time  for 
me  to  take  my  leave.  Miss  Hawkins.” 

“No — wait  a moment.  Don’t  be  offended  at  a trifle.  Do 
not  be  offish  and  unsociable.  The  Steamship  Subsidy  bill  was 
a fraud  on  the  government.  You  voted  for  it,  Mr.  Trollop, 
though  you  always  opposed  the  measure  until  after  you  had 
an  interview  one  evening  with  a certain  Mrs.  McCarter  at 
her  house.  She  was  my  agent.  She  Avas  acting  for  me.  Ah, 
that  is  right — sit  down  again.  You  can  be  sociable,  easily 


378 


POINTED  REMARKS. 


enough  if  you  have  a mind  to.  W ell  ? I am  waiting.  Have 
you  nothing  to  say  ? ” 

Miss  Hawkins,  I voted  for  that  bill  because  when  I came 
to  examine  into  it — ” 

‘‘Ah  yes.  When  you  came  to  examine  into  it.  Well,  I 
only  want  you  to  examine  into  my  bill.  Mr.  Trollop,  you 
would  not  sell  your  vote  on  that  subsidy  bill — which  was 
perfectly  right — but  you  accepted  of  some  of  the  stock,  with 
the  understanding  that  it  was  to  stand  in  your  brother-in- 
law’s name.” 

“ There  is  no  pr — I mean,  this  is  utterly  groundless.  Miss 
Hawkins.”  But  the  gentleman  seemed  somewhat  uneasy, 
nevertheless. 

“ W ell,  not  entirely  so,  perhaps.  I and  a person  whom  we 
will  call  Miss  Blank  (never  mind  the  real  name,)  were  in  a 
closet  at  your  elbow  all  the  while.” 

Mr.  Trollop  winced — then  he  said  with  dignity  : 

“ Miss  Hawkins  is  it  possible  that  you  were  capable  of  such 
a thing  as  that  ? ” 

“ It  was  bad ; I confess  thaf.  It  was  bad.  Almost  as  bad 
as  selling  one’s  vote  for — but  I forget ; you  did  not  sell  your 
vote — ^you  only  accepted  a little  trifle,  a small  token  of 
esteem,  for  your  brother-in-law.  Oh,  let  us  come  out  and  be 
frank  with  each  other.  I know  you,  Mr.  Trollop.  I have 
met  you  on  business  three  or  four  times ; true,  I never  offered 
to  corrupt  your  principles — never  hinted  such  a thing ; but 
always  when  I had  finished  sounding  you,  I manipulated  you 
through  an  agent.  Let  us  be  frank.  Wear  this  comely  dis- 
guise of  virtue  before  the  public — it  will  count  there ; but 
here  it  is  out  of  place.  My  dear  sir,  by  and  by  there  is  going 
to  be  an  investigation  into  that  National  Internal  Improve- 
ment Directors’  Belief  Measure  of  a few  years  ago,  and  you 
know  very  well  that  you  will  be  a crippled  man,  as  likely  as 
not,  when  it  is  completed.” 

“ It  cannot  be  shown  that  a man  is  a knave  merely  for  own- 
ing that  stock.  I am  not  distressed  about  the  National  Im- 
provement Belief  Measure.” 


A SLIGHT  DIFFERENCE  IN  MEN. 


379 


Oh  indeed  I am  not  trying  to  distress  you.  I only  wished 
to  make  good  my  assertion  that  I knew  you.  Several  of  you. 
gentlemen  bought  of  that  stock  (without  paying  a penny 
down)  received  dividends  from  it,  (think  of  the  happy  idea 
of  receiving  dividends,  and  very  large  ones,  too,  from  stock 
one  hasn’t  paid  for  !)  and  all  the  while  your  names  never  ap- 
peared in  the  transaction;  if  ever  you  took  the  stock  at  ally 
you  took  it  in  other  people’s  names.  Now  you  see,  you  had 
to  know  one  of  two  things ; namely,  you  either  knew  that 
the  idea  of  all  this  preposterous  generosity  was  to  bribe  you 
into  future  legislative  friendship,  or  you  didnH  know  it. 
That  is  to  say,  you  had  to  be  either  a knave  or  a — well,  a 
fool — there  was  no  middle  ground.  You  are  not  a fool,  Mr.. 
Trollop.” 

“ Miss  Hawkins  you  flatter  me.  But  seriously,  you  do  not 
forget  that  some  of  the  best  and  purest  men  in  Congress  took 
that  stock  in  that  way  ? ” 

“ Did  Senator  Blank  ? ” 

“ Well,  no — I believe  not.” 

“ Of  course  you  believe  not.  Do  you  suppose  he  was  ever 
approached,  on  the  subject  ? ” 

Perhaps  not.” 

‘‘  If  you  had  approached  him,  for  instance,  fortified  witk 
the  fact  that  ^some  of  the  best  men  in  Congress,  and  the 
purest,  etc.,  etc.,  what  would  have  been  the  result  % ” 

W ell,  what  would  have  been  the  result  ? ” 

“ He  would  have  shown  you  the  door ! For  Mr.  Blank  is 
neither  a knave  nor  a fool.  There  are  other  men  in  the 
Senate  and  the  House  whom  no  one  would  have  been  hardy 
enough  to  approach  with  that  Belief  Stock  in  that  peculiarly 
generous  way,  but  they  are  not  of  the  class  that  you  regard 
as  the  best  and  purest.  No,  I say  I know  you  Mr.  Trollop. 
That  is  to  say,  one  may  suggest  a thing  to  Mr.  Trollop  which 
it  would  not  do  to  suggest  to  Mr.  Blank.  Mr.  Trollop,  you  are 
pledged  to  support  the  Indigent  Congressmen’s  Betroactive 
Appropriation  which  is  to  come  up,  either  in  this  or  the  next 
session.  You  do  not  deny  that,  even  in  public.  The  man 


‘380 


LAUKA  TLAYS  HER  RIGHT  BOWER. 


that  will  vote  for  that  bill  will  break  the  eighth  coipmand- 
ment  in  any  other  way,  sir ! ” 

“ But  he  will  not  vote  for  your  corrupt  measure,  neverthe- 
less, madam ! ” exclaimed  Mr.  Trollop,  rising  from  his  seat 
in  a passion. 

“ Ah,  but  he  will.  Sit  down  again,  and  let  me  explain  why. 
Oh,  come,  don’t  behave  so.  It  is  very  unpleasant.  How  be 
good,  and  you  shall  have  the  missing  page  of  your  great 
speech.  Here  it  is ! ” — and  she  displayed  a sheet  of  manu- 
script. 

Mr.  Trollop  turned  immediately  back  from  the  threshold. 
It  might  have  been  gladness  that  flashed  into  his  face ; it 


NOT  JUST  YET. 


might  have  been  something  else;  but  at  any  rate  there 
was  much  astonishment  mixed  with  it. 

“ Good  ! Where  did  you  get  it  ? Give  it  me  ! ” 

How  there  is  no  linrry.  Sit  down  ; sit  down  and  let  us 
talk  and  be  friendly.” 

The  gentleman  wavered.  Then  he  said : 


MB.  TROLLOP  RALLIES. 


381 


“ Ko,  this  is  only  a subterfuge.  I will  go.  It  is  not  the 
missing  page.” 

Laura  tore  off  a couple  of  lines  from  the  bottom  of  the 
sheet. 

‘‘]^ow,”  she  said,  ‘^you  will  know  whether  this  is  the 
handwriting  or  not.  You  know  it  is  the  handwriting.  How 
if  you  will  listen,  you  will  know  that  this  must  be  the 
list  of  statistics  which  was  to  be  the  ‘ nub  ’ of  your  great 
effort,  and  the  accompanying  blast  the  beginning  of  the 
burst  of  eloquence  which  was  continued  on  the  next  page — 
and  you  will  recognize  that  there  was  where  you  broke 
down.” 

She  read  the  page.  Mr.  Trollop  said : 

This  is  perfectly  astounding.  Still,  what  is  all  this  ta 
me  ? It  is  nothing.  It  does  not  concern  me.  The  speech 
is  made,  and  there  an  end.  I did  break  down  for  a moment, 
and  in  a rather  uncomfortable  place,  since  I had  led  up  to 
those  statistics  with  some  grandeur  ; the  hiatus  was  pleasanter 
to  the  House  and  the  galleries  than  it  was  to  me.  But  it 
is  no  matter  now.  A week  has  passed ; the  jests  about  it 
ceased  three  or  four  days  ago.  The  whole  thing  is  a matter 
of  indifference  to  me.  Miss  Hawkins.” 

“ But  you  apologized,  and  promised  the  statistics  for  next 
day.  Why  didn’t  you  keep  your  promise  ? ” 

“ The  matter  was  not  of  sufficient  consequence.  The  time 
was  gone  by  to  produce  an  effect  with  them.” 

But  I hear  that  other  friends  of  the  Soldiers’  Pension 
Bill  desire  them  very  much.  I think  you  ought  to  let  them 
have  them.” 

‘‘  Miss  Hawkins,  this  silly  blunder  of  my  copyist  evidently 
has  more  interest  for  you  than  it  has  for  me.  I will  send  my 
private  secretary  to  you  and  let  him  discuss  the  subject  with 
you  at  length.” 

“ Did  he  copy  your  speech  for  you  ? ” 

“ Of  course  he  did.  Why  all  these  questions  ? Tell  me — 
how  did  you  get  hold  of  that  page  of  manuscript  ? That  is 
the  only  thing  that  stirs  a passing  interest  in  my  mind.” 


S82  THE  LEFT  BOWER,  ANOTHER  TRICK  TAKEK; 

I’m  coming  to  that.”  Then  she  said,  much  as  if  she  were 
talking  to  herself  : “ It  does  seem  like  taking  a deal  of 

unnecessary  pains,  for  a body  to  hire  another  body  to  con- 
struct a great  speech  for  him  and  then  go  and  get  still  another 
body  to  copy  it  before  it  can  be  read  in  the  House.” 

Miss  Hawkins,  what  do  you  mean  by  such  talk  as  that  ?” 

Why  I am  sure  I mean  no  harm — no  harm  to  anybody 
in  the  world.  I am  certain  that  I overheard  the  Hon.  Mr. 
Buckstone  either  promise  to  write  your  great  speech  for  you 
or  else  get  some  other  competent  person  to  do  it.” 

This  is  perfectly  absurd,  madam,  perfectly  absurd  !”  and 
Mr.  Trollop  affected  a laugh  of  derision. 

Why,  the  thing  has  occurred  before  now.  I mean  that  I 
have  heard  that  Congressmen  have  sometimes  hired  literary 
grubs  to  build  speeches  for  them.  How  didn’t  I overhear  a 
conversation  like  that  I spoke  of  ?” 

Pshaw ! Why  of  course  you  may  have  overheard  some 
such  jesting  nonsense.  But  would  one  be  in  earnest  about  so 
farcical  a thing  ?” 

“ Well  if  it  was  only  a joke,  why  did  you  make  a serious 
matter  of  it?  Why  did  you  get  the  speech  written  for  you, 
and  then  read  it  in  the  House  without  ever  having  it  copied  ?” 

Mr.  Trollop  did  not  laugh,  this  time ; he  seemed  seriously 
perplexed.  He  said : 

Come,  play  out  your  jest,  Miss  Hawkins.  I can’t  under- 
stand what  you  are  contriving — but  it  seems  to  entertain  you 
* — so  please  go  on.” 

I will,  I assure  you  ; but  I hope  to  make  the  matter  enter- 
taining to  you,  too.  Your  private  secretary  never  copied 
your  speech.” 

“ Indeed  ? Keally  you  seem  to  know  my  affairs  better  than 
I do  myself.” 

“ I believe  I do.  You  can’t  name  your  own  amanuensis, 
Mr.  Trollop.” 

That  is  sad,  indeed.  Perhaps  Miss  Hawkins  can  ?” 

“ Yes,  I can.  /wrote  your  speech  myself,  and  you  read 
it  from  my  manuscript.  There,  now  I” 


LAURA  SHOWS  HER  HANDS  FULL  OF  TRUMPS.  383 

Mr.  Trollop  did  not  spring  to  his  feet  and  smite  his  brow 
with  his  hand  while  a cold  sweat  broke  out  all  over  him  and 
the  color  forsook  his  face — no,  he  only  said,  Good  God  !” 
and  looked  greatly  astonished. 

Laura  handed  him  her  commonplace-book  and  called  his 
attention  to  the  fact  that  the  handwriting  there  and  the  hand- 
writing of  this  speech  were  the  same.  He  was  shortly  con- 
winced.  He  laid  the  book  aside  and  said,  composedly : 

Well,  the  wonderful  tragedy  is  done,  and  it  transpires 
that  I am  indebted  to  you  for  my  late  eloquence.  What  of 
it  ? What  was  all  this  for,  and  what  does  it  amount  to,  after 
all  ? What  do  you  propose  to  do  about  it 

‘‘  Oh  nothing.  It  is  only  a bit  of  pleasantry.  When 
I overheard  that  conversation  I took  an  early  opportunity 
to  ask  Mr.  Buckstone  if  he  knew  of  anybody  who  might 
want  a speech  written — I had  a friend,  and  so  forth  and 
so  on.  1 was  the  friend,  myself ; I thought  I might  do 
you  a good  turn  then  and  depend  on  you  to  do  me  one 
by  and  by.  I never  let  Mr.  Buckstone  have  the  speech 
till  the  last  moment,  and  when  you  hurried  off  to  the  House 
with  it,  you  did  not  know  there  was  a missing  page,  of  course, 
but  I did.” 

And  now  perhaps  you  think  that  if  I refuse  to  support 
your  bill,  you  will  make  a grand  exposure 

“ Well  I had  not  thought  of  that.  I only  kept  back  the 
page  for  the  mere  fun  of  the  thing ; but  since  you  mention  it, 
I don’t  know  but  I might  do  something  if  I were  angry.” 

‘‘  My  dear  Miss  Hawkins,  if  you  were  to  give  out  that  you 
composed  my  speech,  you  know  very  well  that  people  would 
say  it  was  only  your  raillery,  your  fondness  for  putting  a vic- 
tim in  the  pillory  and  amusing  the  public  at  his  expense.  It 
is  too  flimsy.  Miss  Hawkins,  for  a person  of  your  fine  inven- 
tive talent — contrive  an  abler  device  than  that.  Come  !” 

It  is  easily  done,  Mr.  Trollop.  I will  hire  a man,  and  pin 
this  page  on  his  breast,  and  label  it,  ‘ The  Missing  Fragment 
of  the  Hon.  Mr.  Trollop’s  Great  Speech — which  speech  was 
written  and  composed  by  Miss  Laura  Hawkins  under  a secret 


384 


MR.  TROLLOP  TAKES  TIME  TO  REFLECT. 


understanding  for  one  hundred  dollars — and  the  money  has 
not  been  paid.’  And  I will  pin  round  about  it  notes  in  my 


WELL  POSTED. 


handwriting,  which  I will  procure  from  prominent  friends  of 
mine  for  the  occasion  ; also  your  printed  speech  in  the  Globe, 
showing  the  connection  between  its  bracketed  hiatus  and  my 
Fragment ; and  I give  you  my  word  of  honor  that  I will 
stand  that  human  bulletin  board  in  the  rotunda  of  the  capitol 
and  make  him  stay  there  a week  ! Y on  see  you  are  prema- 
ture, Mr.  Trollop,  the  wonderful  tragedy  is  not  done  yet,  by 
any  means.  Come,  now,  doesn’t  it  improve  ?” 

Mr  Trollop  opened  his  eyes  ratlier  widely  at  this  novel 
aspect  of  the  case.  He  got  up  and  walked  the  floor  and  gave 
himself  a moment  for  reflection.  Then  he  stopped  and  stud- 
ied Laura’s  face  a while,  and  ended  by  saying : 


HE  THROWS  UP  THE  GAME. 


385 


“ W ell,  I am  obliged  to  believe  you  would  be  reckless 
enough  to  do  that.” 

‘‘  Then  don’t  put  me  to  the  test,  Mr.  Trollop.  But  let’s 
drop  the  matter.  I have  had  my  joke  and  you’ve  borne  the 
infliction  becomingly  enough.  It  spoils  a jest  to  harp  on  it 
after  one  has  had  one’s  laugh.  I would  much  rather  talk 
about  my  bill.” 

“ So  would  I,  now,  my  clandestine  amanuensis.  Compared 
with  some  other  subjects,  even  your  bill  is  a pleasant  topic  to 
discuss.” 

‘‘Yerygood  indeed!  I thought  I could  persuade  you. 
Kow  I am  sure  you  will  be  generous  to  the  poor  negro  and 
vote  for  that  bill.” 

Yes,  I feel  more  tenderly  toward  the  oppressed  colored 
man  than  I did.  Shall  we  bury  the  hatchet  and  be  good 
friends  and  respect  each  other’s  little  secrets,  on  condition  that 
1 vote  Aye  on  the  measure  ?” 

“ With  all  my  heart,  Mr.  Trollop.  I give  you  my  word  of 
that.” 

“ It  is  a bargain.  But  isn’t  there  something  else  you  could 
give  me,  too  ?”  ' , 

Laura  looked  at  him  inquiringly  a moment,  and  then  she 
comprehended. 

“Oh,  yes!  You  may  have  it  now.  I haven’t  any  more 
use  for  it.”  She  picked  up  the  page  of  manuscript,  but  she 
reconsidered  her  intention  of  handing  it  to  him,  and  said, 
“ But  never  mind  ; I will  keep  it  close ; no  one  shall  see  it ; 
you  shall  have  it  as  soon  as  your  vote  is  recorded.” 

Mr.  Trollop  looked  disappointed.  But  presently  made 
his  adieux,  and  had  got  as  far  as  the  hall,  when  something 
occurred  to  Laura.  She  said  to  herself,  “I  don’t  simply 
want  his  vote,  under  compulsion — he  might  vote  aye,  but 
work  against  the  bill  in  secret,  for  revenge;  that  man  is 
unscrupulous  enough  to  do  anything.  I must  have  his  hearty 
co-operation  as  well  as  his  vote.  There  is  only  one  way  to 
get  that.” 

She  called  him  back,  and  said; 

25- 


386 


THAT  OLD  BROTHER-IN-LAW. 


r I value  your  vote,  Mr.  Trollop,  but  I value  your  influence 
more.  You  are  able  to  help  a measure  along  in  many  ways, 
if  you  choose. — I want  to  ask  you  to  work  for  the  bill  as 
well  as  vote  for  it.” 

“ It  takes  so  much  of  one’s  time.  Miss  Hawkins — and  time 
is  money,  you  know.” 

“ Yes,  I know  it  is — especially  in  Congress.  How  there  is 
no  use  in  you  and  I dealing  in  pretenses  and  going  at  mat- 
ters in  round-about  ways.  We  know  each  other — disguises 
are  nonsense.  Let  us  be  plain.  I will  make  it  an  object  to 
you  to  work  for  the  bill.” 

“Don’t  make  it  unnecessarily  plain,  please.  There  are 
little  proprieties  that  are  best  preserved.  What  do  you  pro- 
pose ? ” 

“ Well,  this.”  She  mentioned  the  names  of  several  prom- 
inent Congressmen.  “ How,”  said  she,  “ these  gentlemen 
are  to  vote  and  work  for  the  bill,  simply  out  of  love  for  the 
negro — and  out  of  pure  generosity  I have  put  in  a relative  of 
each  as  a member  of  the  University  incorporation.  They 
will  handle  a million  or  so  of  money,  ofiicially,  but  will 
receive  no  salaries. — A larger  number  of  statesmen  are  to 
vote  and  work  for  the  bill — also  out  of  love  for  the  negro — 
gentlemen  of  but  moderate  influence,  these — and  out  of  pure 
generosity  I am  to  see  that  relatives  of  theirs  have  positions 
in  the  University,  with  salaries,  and  good  ones,  too.  You 
will  vote  and  work  for  the  bill,  from  mere  affection  for  the 
negro,  and  I desire  to  testify  my  gratitude  becomingly. 
Make  free  choice.  Have  you  any  friend  whom  you  would 
like  to  present  with  a salaried  or  unsalaried  position  in  our 
institution  ? ” 

“ Well,  I have  a brother-in-law — ” 

“That  same  old  brother-in-law,  you  good  unselfish  pro- 
vider ! I have  heard  of  him  often,  through  my  agents.  How 
regularly  he  does  ‘ turn  up,’  to  be  sure.  He  could  deal  with 
those  millions  virtuously,  and  withal  with  ability,  too — but 
of  course  you  would  rather  he  had  a salaried  position  ? ” 

“ Oh,  no,”  said  the  gentleman,  facetiously,  “ we  are  very 


ME.  TEOLLOP  LOOKS  OVEE  THE  SITUATION. 


387 


humble,  very  humble  in  our  desires ; we  want  no  money ; 
we  labor  solely  for  our  country  and  require  no  reward 
but  the  luxury  of  an  applauding  conscience.  Make  him  one 
of  those  poor  hard  working  unsalaried  corporators  and  let 
him  do  every  body  good  with  those  millions — and  go  hungry 
himself ! I will  try  to  exert  a little  influence  in  favor  of  the 
bill.” 

Arrived  at  home,  Mr.  Trollop  sat  down  and  thought  it  all 


MR.  TROLLOP  THINKS  IT  OVER. 


over — something  after  this  fashion : it  is  about  the  shape  it 
might  have  taken  if  he  had  spoken  it  aloud. 

“ My  reputation  is  getting  a little  damaged,  and  I meant 
to  clear  it  up  brilliantly  with  an  exposure  of  this  bill  at  the 
supreme  moment,  and  ride  back  into  Congress  on  the  eclat 
of  it ; and  if  I had  that  bit  of  manuscript,  I would  do  it  yet. 
It  would  be  more  money  in  my  pocket,  in  the  end,  than  my 
brother-in-law  will  get  out  of  th?lt  incorporatorship,  fat  as  it 
is.  But  that  sheet  of  paper  is  out  of  my  reach — she  will 


388 


SENATOR  DILWORTHY  OVERFLOWS. 


never  let  that  get  out  of  her  hands.  And  what  a monntam 
it  is  1 It  blocks  up  my  road,  completely.  She  was  going  to 
hand  it  to  me,  once.  Why  didnH  she  ! Must  be  a deep 
woman.  Deep  devil ! That  is  what  she  is ; a beautiful 
devil  — and  perfectly  fearless,  too.  The  idea  of  her 
pinning  that  paper  on  a man  and  standing  him  up  in  the 
rotunda  looks  absurd  at  a first  glance.  But  she  would  do  it ! 
She  is  capable  of  doing  anything.  I went  there  hoping  she 
would  try  to  bribe  me — good  solid  capital  that  would  be 
in  the  exposure.  Well,  my  prayer  was  answered;  she  did 
try  to  bribe  me;  and  I made  the  best  of  a bad  bargain 
and  let  her.  I am  check-mated.  I must  contrive  something 
fresh  to  get  back  to  Congress  on.  Very  well ; a bird  in  the 
hand  is  worth  two  in  the  bush ; I will  work  for  the  bill — 
the  incorporatorship  will  be  a very  good  thing.” 

As  soon  as  Mr.  Trollop  had  taken  his  leave,  Laura  ran  to 
Senator  Dilworthy  and  began  to  speak,  but  he  interrupted 
her  and  said  distressfully,  without  even  turning  from  his 
writing  to  look  at  her : 

“ Only  half  an  hour  ! You  gave  it  up  early,  child.  How- 
ever, it  was  best,  it  was  best — Ihn  sure  it  was  best — and 
safest.” 

“Give  it  up! 

The  Senator  sprang  up,  all  aglow : 

“ My  child,  you  can’t  mean  that  you — ” 

“ I’ve  made  him  promise  on  honor  to  think  about  a com- 
promise to-night  and  come  and  tell  me  his  decision  in  the 
morning.” 

“ Good ! There’s  hope  yet  that — ” 

“Honsense,  uncle.  I’ve  made  him  engage  to  let  the  Ten- 
nessee Land  bill  utterly  alone  1” 

“ Impossible  I You — ” 

“ I’ve  made  him  promise  to  vote  with  us  !” 

“ Incredible  ! Abso — ” 

“ I’ve  made  him  swear  that  he’ll  worTc  for  us !” 

“ PEE  - - - POSTEEOUS  ! — Utterly  pre — break  a window, 
child,  before  I suffocate !” 


, OF  THE 
L'NiVERSITY  OF.  iLUWO! 


LAURA  RECEIVES  DILLWORTHY’S  BLESSING. 


LAURA  REVIEWS  THE  GAME.  389 

matter,  it’s  true  anyway.  'Now  we  can  march  into 
Congress  with  drums  beating  and  colors  flying  !” 

“Well — well — well.  I’m  sadly  bewildered,  sadly  bewil- 
dered. I can’t  understand  it  at  all — the  most  extraordinary 
w^oman  that  ever — it’s  a great  day,  it’s  a great  day.  There — 
there — let  me  put  my  hand  in  benediction  on  this  precious 
head.  Ah,  my  child,  the  poor  negro  will  bless — ” 

“ Oh  bother  the  poor  negro,  uncle  ! Put  it  in  your  speech. 
Good-night,  good-bye — we’ll  marshal  our  forces  and  march 
with  the  dawn  !” 

Laura  reflected  a while,  when  she  was  alone,  and  then  fell 
to  laughing,  peacefully. 

“Everybody  works  for  me,” — so  ran  her  thought.  “It 
was  a good  idea  to  make  Buckstone  lead  Mr.  Trollop  on  to 
get  a great  speech  written  for  him ; and  it  was  a happy  part 
of  the  same  idea  for  me  to  copy  the  speech  after  Mr.  Buck- 
stone  had  written  it,  and  then  keep  back  a page.  Mr.  B.  was 
very  complimentary  to  me  when  Trollop’s  break-down  in  the 
House  showed  him  the  ohjeet  of  my  mysterious  scheme ; I 
think  he  will  say  still  flner  things  wdien  I tell  him  the 
triumph  the  sequel  to  it  has  gained  for  us. 

“ But  what  a coward  the  man  was,  to  believe  I would  have 
exposed  that  page  in  the  rotunda,  and  so  exposed  myself. 
However,  I don’t  know — I don’t  know.  I wdll  think  a mo- 
ment. Suppose  he  voted  no ; suppose  the  bill  failed ; that 
is  to  suppose  this  stupendous  game  lost  forever,  that  I have 
played  so  desperately  for  ; suppose  people  came  around  pity- 
ing me — odious  ! And  he  could  have  saved  me  by  his  single 
voice.  Yes,  I would  have  exposed  him ! What  would  I care  for 
the  talk  that  that  would  have  made  about  me  when  I was 
gone  to  Europe  with  Selby  and  all  the  world  was  busy  with 
my  history  and  my  dishonor  ? It  would  be  almost  happiness 
to  spite  somebody  at  such  a time.’ 


CHAPTER  XLTII. 


‘‘Ikkakd  gidiamuttu  Wamallitakoanti  likissitu  anissia  ukunnaria  ni  rnbti  knrrn 
naussa  abbanu  aboabiiddunnua  namonnua.” 

The  very  next  day,  sure  enough,  the  campaign  opened. 

In  due  course,  the  Speaker  of  the  House  reached  that 
Order  of  Business  which  is  termed  Notices  of  Bills,”  and 
and  then  the  Hon.  Mr.  Buckstone  rose  in  his  place  and  gave 
notice  of  a bill  ‘‘To  Found  and  Incorporate  the  Knobs  In- 
dustrial University,”  and  then  sat  down  without  saying  any- 
thing further.  The  busy  gentlemen  in  the  reporters’  gallery 
jotted  a line  in  tlieir  note-books,  ran  to  the  telegraphic  desk 
in  a room  which  communicated  with  their  own  writing-par- 
lor, and  then  hurried  back  to  their  places  in  the  gallery ; and 
by  the  time  they  had  resumed  their  seats,  the  line  which 
they  had  delivered  to  the  operator  had  been  read  in  telegraphic 
offices  in  towns  and  cities  hundreds  of  miles  away.  It  was- 
distinguished  by  frankness  of  language  as  well  as  by  brevity : 

“ The  child  is  born.  Buckstone  gives  notice  of  the  thieving  Knobs  Univer- 
sity job.  It  is  said  the  noses  have  been  counted  and  enough  votes  have  been 
bought  to  pass  it.” 

For  some  time  the  correspondents  had  been  posting  their 
several  journals  upon  the  alleged  disreputable  nature  of  the 
bill,  and  furnishing  daily  reports  of  the  Washington  gossip 
concerning  it.  So  the  next  morning,  nearly  every  news- 
paper of  character  in  the  land  assailed  the  measure  and  hurl- 
ed broadsides  of  invective  at  Mr.  Buckstone.  The  'Washing- 
ton papers  were  more  respectful,  as  usual — and  conciliatory^ 
also,  as  usual.  They  generally  supported  measures,  when  it 
was  possible ; but  when  they  could  not  they  “ deprecated 
violent  exj)ressions  of  opinion  in  other  journalistic  quarters. 


A FKIENDLY  JOUKNAL. 


391 


They  always  deprecated,  when  there  was  trouble  ahead. 

However,  The  Washington  Daily  Love-Feast  hailed  the 
bill  with  warm  approbation.  This  was  Senator  Balaam’s 
paper — or  rather,  “ Brother  ” Balaam,  as  he  was  popularly 
called,  for  he  had  been  a clergyman,  in  his  day  ; and  he  him- 
self and  all  that  he  did  still  emitted  an  odor  of  sanctity  now 
that  he  had  diverged  into  journalism  and  politics.  He  was  a 
power  in  the  Congressional  prayer  meeting,  and  in  all  move- 
ments that  looked  to  the  spread  of  religion  and  temperance. 
His  paper  supported  the  new  bill  with  gushing  affection ; it 
was  a noble  measure ; it  was  a just  measure ; it  was  a gen- 
erous measure ; it  was  a pure  measure,  and  that  surely  should 
recommend  it  in  these  corrupt  times;  and  finally,  if  the 
nature  of  the  bill  were  not  known  at  all,  the  Love-Feast  would 
support  it  anyway,  and  unhesitatingly,  for  the  fact  that  Sen- 
ator Dilworthy  was  the  originator  of  the  measure  was  a guar- 
anty that  it  contemplated  a worthy  and  righteous  work. 

Senator  Dilworthy  was  so  anxious  to  know  what  the  Hew 
York  papers  would  say  about  the  bill,  that  he  had  arranged 
to  have  synopses  of  their  editorials  telegraphed  to  him ; ho 
could  not  wait  for  the  papers  themselves  to  crawl  along  down 


UNNECESSARY  PRECAUTION, 

to  Washington  by  a mail  train  which  has  never  run  over  a cow 
since  the  road  was  built,  for  the  reason  that  it  has  never 
been  able  to  overtake  one.  It  carries  the  usual  cow-catcher  ” 


392 


PERSECUTION  DESIRABLE. 


in  front  of  the  locomotive,  but  this  is  mere  ostentation. 
It  ought  to  be  attached  to  the  rear  car,  where  it  could 
do  some  good  ; but  instead,  no  provision  is  made  there  for  the 
protection  of  the  traveling  public,  and  hence  it  is  not  a matter 


WHERE  THE  PROTECTION  IS  NEEDED. 


of  surprise  that  cows  so  frequently  climb  aboard  that  train 
and  among  the  j^assengers. 

The  Senator  read  his  dispatches  aloud  at  the  breakfast 
table.  Laura  was  troubled  beyond  measure  at  their  tone,  and 
said  that  that  sort  of  comment  would  defeat  the  bill ; but  the 
Senator  said : 

Oh,  not  at  all,  not  at  all,  my  child.  It  is  just  what  we 
want.  Persecution  is  the  one  thing  needful,  now — all  the 
other  forces  are  secured.  Give  us  newspaper  persecution 
enough,  and  we  are  safe.  Vigorous  persecution  will  alone 
carry  a bill  sometimes,  dear ; and  wdien  you  start  with  a 
strong  vote  in  the  first  place,  persecution  comes  in  with 
double  effect.  It  scares  off  some  of  the  weak  suj^porters,  true, 
but  it  soon  turns  strong  ones  into  stubborn  ones.  And  then, 
presently,  it  changes  the  tide  of  public  opinion.  The  great 
public  is  weak-minded  ; the  great  public  is  sentimental ; the 
great  public  always  turns  around  and  weeps  for  an  odious 
murderer,  and  prays  for  him,  and  carries  flowers  to  his  prison 
and  besieges  the  governor  with  appeals  to  his  clemency,  as  soon 


THE  KIND  OF  EDITOKIALS  NEEDED. 


393 


as  the  papers  begin  to  howl  for  that  man’s  blood. — In  a word, 
the  great  putty -hearted  public  loves  to  ^ gush,’  and  there  is 


AN  OBJECT  OP  SYMPATHY. 


HO  such  darling  opportunity  to  gush  as  a case  of  persecution 
affords.” 

“Well,  uncle,  dear,  if  your  theory  is  right,  let  us  go  into 
raptures,  for  nobody  can  ask  a heartier  persecution  than  these 
editorials  are  furnishiiic 

“ I am  not  so  sure  of  that,  daughter.  I don’t  entirely 
like  the  tone  of  some  of  these  remarks.  They  lack  vim,  they 
lack  venom.  Here  is  one  calls  it  a ‘ questionable  measure.’ 
Hah,  there  is  no  strength  in  that.  This  one  is  better ; it  calls 
it  ^ highway  robbery.’  That  sounds  something  like.  But 
now  this  one  seems  satisfied  to  call  it  an  ‘ iniquitous  scheme !’ 
— ‘ Iniquitous  ’ does  not  exasperate  anybody ; it  is  weak — puer- 
ile. The  ignorant  will  imagine  it  to  be  intended  for  a com- 
pliment. But  this  other  one — the  one  I read  last — has  the 
true  ring : ^ This  vile,  dirty  effort  to  rob  the  public  treasury, 
by  the  kites  and  vultures  that  now  infest  the  filthy  den  called 


394 


THE  BILL  INTRODUCED. 


Congress’ — that  is  admirable^  admirable!  We  must  have 
more  of  that  sort.  But  it  will  come — no  fear  of  that ; they’re 
not  warmed  up,  yet.  A week  from  now  you’ll  see.” 

IJncle,  you  and  Brother  Balaam  are  bosom  friends — why 
don’t  you  get  his  paper  to  persecute  us,  too?” 

“ It  isn’t  worth  while,  my  daughter.  His  support  doesn’t 
hurt  a bill.  Hobody  reads  his  editorials  but  himself.  But  I 
wish  the  Hew  York  papers  would  talk  a little  plainer.  It  is 
annoying  to  have  to  wait  a week  for  them  to  warm  up.  I 
expected  better  things  at  their  hands — and  time  is  precious, 
now.” 

At  the  proper  hour,  according  to  his  previous  notice,  Mr. 
Buckstone  duly  introduced  his  bill  entitled  “An  Act  to 
Bound  and  Incorporate  the  Knobs  Industrial  University,’^ 
moved  its  proper  reference,  and  sat  down. 

The  Speaker  of  the  House  rattled  off  this  observation : 

“ ’ Bn objectionbilltakuzhlcourssoref erred  1” 

Habitues  of  the  House  comprehended  that  this  long,  light- 
ning-heeled word  signified  that  if  there  was  no  objection,  the 
bill  would  take  the  customary  course  of  a measure  of  its  nature, 
and  be  referred  to  the  Committee  on  Benevolent  Appropria- 
tions, and  that  it  was  accordingly  so  referred.  Strangers 
merely  supposed  that  the  Speaker  w^as  taking  a gargle  for 
some  affection  of  the  throat. 

The  reporters  immediately  telegraphed  the  introduction, 
of  the  bill. — And  they  added : 

“The  assertion  that  the  bill  will  pass  was  premature.  It  is  said  that  many 
favorers  of  it  will  desert  when  the  storm  breaks  upon  them  from  the  public 
press.” 

The  storm  came,  and  during  ten  days  it  waxed  more  and 
more  violent  day  by  day.  The  great  “ Negro  University 
Swindle”  became  the  one  absorbing  topic  of  conversation 
throughout  the  Union.  Individuals  denounced  it,  journals 
denounced  it,  public  meetings  denounced  it,  the  pictorial 
papers  caricatured  its  friends,  the  whole  nation  seemed  to  be 
growing  frantic  over  it.  Meantime  the  Washington  corre- 
spondents were  sending  such  telegrams  as  these  abroad  in  the 
land  : Under  date  of — 


WHAT  THE  PRESS  SAID. 


39b 

Saturday.  “ Congressmen  Jex  and  Fluke  are  wavering ; it  is  believed  they  will 
desert  the  execrable  bill.” 

Monday.  “ Jex  and  Fluke  have  deserted ! ” 

Thursday.  “ Tubbs  and  Huffy  left  the  sinking  ship  last  night.” 

Later  on : 

“ Three  desertions.  The  University  thieves  are  getting  scared,  though  they  wilt 
not  own  it.” 

Later : 

“ The  leaders  are  growing  stubborn — they  swear  they  can  carry  it,  but  it  ia 
now  almost  certain  that  they  no  longer  have  a majority ! ” 

After  a day  or  two  of  reluctant  and  ambiguous  tele- 
grams : 

“ Public  sentiment  seems  changing,  a trifle,  in  favor  of  the  bill — but  only  a 
trifle.” 

And  still  later : 

“ It  is  whispered  that  the  Hon.  Mr.  Trollop  has  gone  over  to  the  pirates.  It 
is  probably  a canard.  Mr.  Trollop  has  all  along  been  the  bravest  and  most 
efficient  champion  of  virtue  and  the  people  against  the  bill,  and  the  report  is. 
without  doubt  a shameless  invention.” 

Next  day : 

“ With  characteristic  treachery,  the  truckling  and  pusillanimous  reptile,  Crip- 
pled-Speech Trollop,  has  gone  over  to  the  enemy.  It  is  contended,  now,  that  he 
has  been  a friend  to  the  hill,  in  secret,  since  the  day  it  was  introduced,  and  has  had 
bankable  reasons  for  being  so ; but  he  himself  declares  that  he  has  gone  over 
because  the  malignant  persecution  of  the  bill  by  the  newspapers  caused  him  to 
study  its  provisions  with  more  care  than  he  had  previously  done,  and  this  close 
examination  revealed  the  fact  that  the  measure  is  one  in  every  way  worthy  of 
support.  (Pretty  thin !)  It  cannot  be  denied  that  this  desertion  has  had  a 
damaging  effect.  Jex  and  Fluke  have  returned  to  their  iniquitous  allegiance, 
with  six  or  eight  others  of  lesser  calibre,  and  it  is  reported  and  believed  that 
Tubbs  and  Huffy  are  ready  to  go  back.  It  is  feared  that  the  University  swindlo 
is  stronger  to-day  than  it  has  ever  been  before.” 

Later — midnight : 

“ It  is  said  that  the  committee  will  report  the  bill  back  to-morrow.  Both 
sides  are  marshaling  their  forces,  and  the  flght  on  this  bill  is  evidently  going  to 
be  the  hottest  of  the  session. — ^All  Washington  is  boiUng.” 


CHAPTER  XLIV. 


Capienda  rebus  in  mails  praeceps  via  e&i— Seneca. 

Et  enim  ipse  se  impellunt,  ubi  semel  a ratione  discessum  est:  ipsaque  sibi 
imbecillitas  indulget,  in  altumque  provebitur  imprudenter : nec  reperet  locum 
consistendi. — Cicero. 

TT’S  easy  enough  for  another  fellow  to  talk,”  said  Harry, 

JL  despondingly,  after  he  had  put  Philip  in  possession  of 
his  view  of  the  case.  It’s  easy  enough  to  say  ^ give  her  up,’ 
if  you  don’t  care  for  her.  What  am  I going  to  do  to  give 
her  up  ? ” 

It  seemed  to  Harry  that  it  was  a situation  requiring  some 
active  measures.  He  couldn’t  realize  that  he  had  fallen  hope- 
lessly in  love  without  some  rights  accruing  to  him  for  the 
possession  of  the  object  of  his  passion.  Quiet  resignation 
under  relinquishment  of  any  thing  he  wanted  was  notin  his 
line.  And  when  it  appeared  to  him  that  his  surrender  of 
Laura  would  be  the  withdrawal  of  the  one  barrier  that  kept 
her  from  ruin,  it  was  unreasonable  to  expect  that  he  could  see 
how  to  give  her  up. 

Harry  had  the  most  buoyant  confidence  in  his  own  pro- 
jects always ; he  saw  everything  connected  with  himself  in  a 
large  way  and  in  rosy  hues.  This  predominance  of  the  imag- 
ination over  the  judgment  gave  that  appearance  of  exagger- 
ation to  his  conversation  and  to  his  communications  with 
regard  to  himself,  which  sometimes  conveyed  the  impression 
that  he  was  not  speaking  the  truth.  His  acquaintances  had 

396 


PHILIP  IN  WASHINGTON. 


39T 


been  known  to  say  that  they  invariably  allowed  a half  for 
shrinkage  in  his  statements,  and  held  the  other  half  under 
advisement  for  confirmation. 

Philip  in  this  case  could  not  tell  from  Harry’s  story  ex- 
actly how  much  encouragement  Laura  had  given  him,  nor- 
what  hopes  he  might  justly  have  of  winning  her.  He  had 
never  seen  him  desponding  before.  The  brag  ” appeared 
to  be  all  taken  out  of  him,  and  his  airy  manner  only  asserted 
itself  now  and  then  in  a comical  imitation  of  its  old  self. 

Philip  wanted  time  to  look  about  him  before  he  decided 
what  to  do.  He  was  not  familiar  with  Washington,  and  it 
was  difficult  to  adjust  his  feelings  and  perceptions  to  its  pe- 
culiarities. Coming  out  of  the  sweet  sanity  of  the  Bolton 
household,  this  was  by  contrast  the  maddest  Yanity  Fair  one 
could  conceive.  It  seemed  to  him  a feverish,  unhealthy 
atmosphere  in  which  lunacy  would  be  easily  developed.  He 
fancied  that  everybody  attached  to  himself  an  exaggerated 
importance,  from  the  fact  of  being  at  the  national  capital^, 
the  center  of  political  influence,  the  fountain  of  patronage,, 
preferment,  jobs  and  opportunities. 

People  were  introduced  to  each  other  as  from  this  or  that 
state,  not  from  cities  or  towns,  and  this  gave  a largeness  to* 
their  representative  feeling.  All  the  women  talked  politics 
as  naturally  and  glibly  as  they  talk  fashion  or  literature 
elsewhere.  There  was  always  some  exciting  topic  at  the 
Capitol,  or  some  huge  slander  was  rising  up  like  a miasmatic 
exhalation  from  the  Potomac,  threatening  to  settle  no  one 
knew  exactly  where.  Every  other  person  was  an  aspirant 
for  a place,  or,  if  he  had  one,  for  a better  place,  or  more  pay ; 
almost  every  other  one  had  some  claim  or  interest  or  remedy 
to  urge  ; even  the  women  were  all  advocates  for  the  advance- 
ment of  some  person,  and  they  violently  espoused  or  denounced 
this  or  that  measure  as  it  would  affect  some  relative,  ac- 
quaintance or  friend. 

Love,  travel,  even  death  itself,  waited  on  the  chances  of  the 
dies  daily  thrown  in  the  two  Houses,  and  the  committee 
rooms  there.  If  the  measure  went  through,  love  could  afford 


598 


THE  OLD  CLAIMANTS. 


to  ripen  into  marriage,  and  longing  for  foreign  travel  would 
have  fruition ; and  it  must  have  been  only  eternal  hope 
springing  in  the  breast  that  kept  alive  numerous  old  claimants 


CHILDREN  OF  HOPE. 


who  for  years  and  years  had  besieged  the  doors  of  Congress, 
and  who  looked  as  if  they  needed  not  so  much  an  appropria- 
tion of  money  as  six  feet  of  ground.  And  those  who  stood 
so  long  waiting  for  success  to  bring  them  death  were  usually 
those  who  had  a just  claim. 

Representing  states  and  talking  of  national  and  even  inter- 
national affairs,  as  familiarly  as  neighbors  at  home  talk  of 
poor  crops  and  the  extravagance  of  their  ministers,  was  likely 
at  first  to  impose  upon  Philip  as  to  the  importance  of  the 
people  gathered  here. 

There  was  a little  newspaper  editor  from  Phil’s  native 
town,  the  assistant  on  a Peddletonian  weekly,  who  made  his 
little  annual  joke  about  the  “ first  egg  laid  on  our  table,”  and 
who  was  the  menial  of  every  tradesman  in  the  village  and 
nnder  bonds  to  him  for  frequent  “ puffs,”  except  the  under- 


QUEER  ACTS  ACCOUNTED  FOR. 


399 


taker,  about  whose  employment  lie  was  recklessly  facetious. 
In  Washington  he  was  an  important  man,  correspondent,  and 
clerk  of  two  house  committees,  a “ worker  ” in  politics,  and  a 
confident  critic  of  every  woman  and  every  man  in  Washing- 
ton. He  would  be  a consul  no  doubt  by  and  by,  at  some 
foreign  port,  of  the  language  of  which  he  was  ignorant- 
though  if  ignorance  of  lan- 
guage were  a qualification 
he  might  have  been  a consul 
at  home.  His  easy  famil- 
iarity with  great  men  was 
beautiful  to  see,  and  when 
Philip  learned  what  a tre- 
mendous underground  in- 
fluence this  little  ignoramus 
had,  he  no  longer  wondered 
at  the  queer  appointments 
and  the  queerer  legislation. 

Philip  was  not  long  in 
discovering  that  people  in  Washington  did  not  differ  much 
from  other  people;  they  had  the  same  meannesses,  generos- 
ities, and  tastes.  A Washington  boarding  house  had  the 
odor  of  a boarding  house  the  world  over. 

Col.  Sellers  was  as  unchanged  as  any  one  Philip  saw  whom 
he  had  known  elsewhere.  Washington  appeared  to  be  the 
native  element  of  this  man.  His  pretentions  were  equal  to 
any  he  encountered  there.  He  saw  nothing  in  its  society  that 
equalled  that  of  Hawkeye,  he  sat  down  to  no  table  that  could 
not  be  unfavorably  contrasted  with  his  own  at  home ; the 
most  airy  scheme  inflated  in  the  hot  air  of  the  capital  only 
reached  in  magnitude  some  of  his  lesser  fancies,  the  by-play 
of  his  constructive  imagination. 

“ The  country  is  getting  along  very  well,”  he  said  to  Philip, 
^‘but  our  public  men  are  too  timid.  What  we  want  is  more 
money.  I’ve  told  Boutwell  so.  Talk  about  basing  the  cur- 
rency on  gold ; you  might  as  well  base  it  on  pork.  Gold  is 


400  COL.  SELLEiiS’  VIEWS  OF  THE  COUNTRY  AND  LAURA.] 

only  one  product.  Base  it  on  everything  ! You’ve  got  t® 
do  something  for  the  West.  How  am  1 to  move  my  crops  ? 
We  must  have  improvements.  Grant’s  got  the  idea.  We 
want  a canal  from  the  James  Eiver  to  the  Mississippi.  Gov- 
ernment ought  to  build  it.” 

It  was  difficult  to  get  the  Colonel  off  from  these  large, 
themes  when  he  was  once  started,  but  Philip  brought  the 
conversation  round  to  Laura  and  her  reputation  in  the  City. 

‘‘No,”  he  said,  “I  haven’t  noticed  much.  We’ve  been  so 
busy  about  this  University.  It  will  make  Laura  rich  with 
the  rest  of  us,  and  she  has  done  nearly  as  much  as  if  she  were 
a man.  She  has  great  talent,  and  will  make  a big  match.  I 
see  the  foreign  ministers  and  that  sort  after  her.  Yes,  there 
is  talk,  always  will  be  abcut  a pretty  woman  so  much  in  public 
as  she  is.  Tough  stories  come  to  me,  but  I put ’em  away. 
’Taint  likely  one  of  Si.  Hawkins’s  children  would  do  that — • 
for  she  is  the  same  as  a child  of  his.  I told  her,  though,  te 
go  slow,”  added  the  Colonel,  as  if  that  mysterious  admonition 
from  him  would  set  everything  right. 

“ Do  you  know  anything  about  a Col.  Selby  ?” 

“ Know  all  about  him.  Fine  fellow.  But  he’s  got  a wife" 
and  I told  him,  as  a friend,  he’d  better  sheer  off  from  Laura. 
I reckon  he  thought  better  of  it  and  did.” 

But  Philip  was  not  long  in  learning  the  truth.  Courted  as 
Laura  was  by  a certain  class  and  still  admitted  into  society, 
that,  nevertheless,  buzzed  with  disreputable  stories  about  her, 
she  had  lost  character  with  the  best  people.  Her  intimacy 
with  Selby  was  open  gossip,  and  there  were  winks  and  thrust- 
ings  of  the  tongue  in  any  group  of  men  when  she  passed  by. 
It  was  clear  enough  that  Harry’s  delusion  must  be  broken  up, 
and  that  no  such  feeble  obstacle  as  his  passion  could  inter- 
pose would  turn  Laura  from  her  fate.  Philip  determined  to 
see  her,  and  put  himself  in  possession  of  the  truth,  as  he  sus- 
pected it,  in  order  to  show  Harry  his  folly. 

Laura,  after  her  last  conversation  with  Harry,  had  a new 
sense  of  her  position.  She  had  noticed  before  the  signs  of  a 


LAURA  ON  THE  ALERT. 


401 


oLange  in  manner  towards  her,  a little  less  respect  perhaps 
from  men,  and  an  avoidance  by  women.  She  had  attributed 
this  latter  partly  to  jealousy  of  her,  for  no  one  is  willing  to 
acknowledge  a fault  in  himself  when  a more  agreeable  motive 
can  be  lound  for  the  estrangement  of  his  acquaintances.  But, 
now,  if  society  had  turned  on  her,  she  would  defy  it.  It  was 
not  in  her  nature  to  shrink.  She  knew  she  had  been  wronged, 
and  she  knew  that  she  liad  no  remedy. 

"What  she  heard  of  Col.  Selby’s  proposed  departurealarmed 
her  more  than  anything  else,  and  she  calmly  determined  that  if 
he  was  deceiving  her  the  second  time  it  should  be  the  last. 
Let  society  finish  the  tragedy  if  it  liked;  she  was  indifferent  what 
came  after.  At  the  first  opportunity,  she  charged  Selby  with 
his  intention  to  abandon  her.  He  unblushingly  denied  it. 
He  had  not  thought  of  going  to  Europe.  He  had  only  been 
amusinir  himself  with  Sellers’  schemes.  He  swore  that  as 
soon  as  she  succeeded  with  her  bill,  he  would  fiy  with  her  to 
any  part  of  the  world. 

She  did  not  quite  believe  him,  for  she  saw  that  he  feared 
her,  and  she  began  to  suspect  that  his  were  the  protestations 
of  a coward  to  gain  time.  But  she  showed  him  no  doubts. 
She  only  w^atched  his  movements  day  by  day,  and  always  held 
herself  ready  to  act  promptly. 

When  Philip  came  into  the  presence  of  this  attractive 
woman,  he  could  not  realize  that  she  was  the  subject  of  all 
the  scandal  he  had  heard.  She  received  him  with  quite  the 
old  Hawkeye  openness  and  cordiality,  and  fell  to  talking  at 
once  of  their  little  acquaintance  there ; and  it  seemed  impos- 
sible that  he  could  ever  say  to  her  what  he  had  come  deter- 
mined to  say.  Such  a man  as  Philip  's  only  one  standard 
by  which  to  judge  women. 

Laura  recognized  that  fact  no  doubt.  The  better  part  of 
her  woman’s  nature  saw  it.  Such  a man  might,  years  ago,  not 
now,  have  changed  her  nature,  and  made  the  issue  of  her  life 
so  different,  even  after  her  cruel  abandonment.  She  had  a 
dim  feeling  of  this,  and  she  would  like  now  to  stand  well 
with  him.  The  spark  of  truth  and  honor  that  was  left  in  her 
2G- 


402 


PHILIP  VISITS  LAUKA.. 


was  elicited  by  bis  presence.  It  was  this  influence  that  gov- 
erned her  conduct  in  this  interview. 

‘‘  I have  come/’  said  Philip  in  his  direct  manner,  “ from 
my  friend  Mr.  Brierly,  You  are  not  ignorant  of  his  feeling 
towards  you  ?” 

Perhaps  not.” 

But  perhaps  you  do  not  know,  you  who  have  so  much 
admiration,  how  sincere  and  overmastering  his  love  is  for 
you  f ’ Philip  would  not  have  spoken  so  plainly,  if  he  had 
in  mind  anything  except  to  draw  from  Laura  something 
that  w^ould  end  Harry’s  passion. 

And  is  sincere  love  so  rare,  Mr.  Sterling  ?”  asked  Laura, 
moving  her  foot  a little,  and  speaking  with  a shade  of  sar- 
casm. 

“Perhaps  not  in  Washington,”  replied  Philip,  tempted 
into  a similar  tone.  “ Excuse  my  bluntness,”  he  continued, 
“ but  would  the  knowledge  of  his  love,  would  his  devotion, 
make  any  difference  to  you  in  your  Washington  life  ?” 

“ In  respect  to  what  ? ” asked  Laura  quickly. 

“Well,  to  others.  I won’t  equivocate — to  Col.  Selby?” 

Laura’s  face  flushed  with  anger,  or  shame ; she  looked 
steadily  at  Philip  and  began, 

“By  what  right,  sir, — ” 

“ By  the  right  of  friendship,”  interrupted  Philip  stoutly. 
“ It  may  matter  little  to  you.  It  is  everything  to  him.  He 
has  a Quixotic  notion  that  you  would  turn  back  from  what 
is  before  you  for  his  sake.  You  cannot  be  ignorant  of  what 
all  the  city  is  talking  of.”  Philip  said  this  determinedly  and 
with  some  bitterness. 

It  was  a full  minute  before  Laura  spoke.  Both  had  risen, 
Philip  as  if  to  go,  and  Laura  in  suppressed  excitement. 
When  she  spoke  her  voice  was  very  unstead}^  and  she  looked 
down. 

“ Yes,  I know.  I perfectly  understand  wdiat  you  mean.  Mr. 
Brierly  is  nothing — simply  nothing.  He  is  a moth  singed,  that 
is  all — the  trifler  with  women  thought  he  was  a wasp.  I 
have  no  pity  for  him,  not  the  least.  You  may  tell  him  not 


SAD  REFLECTIONS. 


403 


to  make  a fool  of  himself,  and  to  keep  away.  I say  this  on 
yonr  account,  not  his.  Yon  are  not  like  him.  It  is  enough 
for  me  that  you  want  it  so.  Mr.  Sterling,”  she  continued, 
looking  up,  and  there  were  tears  in  her  eyes  that  contradicted 
the  hardness  of  her  language,  you  might  not  pity  him  if 
you  knew  my  liistory  ; perhaps  you  would  not  wonder  at  some 
things  you  hear.  'No  ; it  is  useless  to  ask  me  why  it  must  be 
so.  You  can’t  make  a life  over — society  wouldn’t  let  you  if 
you  would — and  mine  must  be  lived  as  it  is.  There,  sir,  I’m 
not  otfended ; but  it  is  useless  for  you  to  say  anything  more.” 

Philip  went  away  witli  liis  heart  lightened  about  Harry, 
but  profoundly  saddened  by  tlie  glimpse  of  what  this  woman 
might  have  been.  He  told  Harry  all  that  was  necessary  of 
the  conversation — she  was  bent  on  going  her  own  way,  he 
had  not  the  ghost  of  a chance — he  was  a tool,  she  had  said, 
for  thinking  he  had. 

And  Harry  accepted  it  meekly,  and  made  up  his  own  mind 
that  Philip  didn’t  know  much  about  women. 


CHAPTER  XLV, 


— Nakila  cu  ch’y  cu  yao  chike,  chi  ka  togobah  cu  y vach,  x-e  n chax*cut?— >- 
Utz,  chi  ka  ya  puvak  chyve,  x-e  cha-cu  ri  amag. 

Popul  Vuh. 

The  galleries  of  the  House  were  packed,  on  the  momentous 
day,  not  because  the  reporting  of  an  important  bill  back 
by  a committee  was  a thing  to  be  excited  about,  if  the  bill 
were  going  to  take  the  ordinary  course  afterward  ; it  would 
be  like  getting  excited  over  the  empaneling  of  a coroner’s 
jury  in  a murder  case,  instead  of  saving  up  one’s  emotions 
for  the  grander  occasion  of  the  hanging  of  the  accused,  two- 
years  later,  after  all  the  tedious  forms  of  law  had  been  gone 
through  with. 

But  suppose  you  understand  that  this  coroner’s  jury 
is  going  to  turn  out  to  be  a vigilance  committee  in  disguise, 
who  will  hear  testimony  for  an  hour  and  then  hang  the  mur- 
derer on  the  spot  ? That  puts  a different  aspect  upon  the 
matter.  Now  it  was  whispered  that  the  legitimate  forms  of 
procedure  usual  in  the  House,  and  which  keep  a bill  hanging 
along  for  days  and  even  weeks,  before  it  is  finally  passed 
upon,  were  going  to  be  overruled,  in  this  case,  and  short  work 
made  of  the  measure  ; and  so,  what  was  beginning  as  a mere 
inquest  might  turn  out  to  be  something  very  different. 

In  the  course  of  the  day’s  business  the  Order  of  Reports 
of  Committees”  was  finally  reached  and  when  the  weary 
crowds  heard  that  glad  announcement  issue  from  the  Speaker’s 
lips  they  ceased  to  fret  at  the  dragging  delay,  and  plucked  up 
spirit.  The  Chairman  of  the  Committee  on  Benevolent 

401 


SENATOR  DILWORTHY’S  PRIVATE  LETTER. 


405 


Appropriations  rose  and  made  his  report,  and  just  then  a blue- 
uniformed  brass-mounted  little  page  put  a note  into  his  hand. 
It  was  from  Senator  Dilworthy,  wdio  had  appeared  upon  the 
-floor  of  the  House  for  a moment  and  flitted  away  again: 

“ Everybody  expects  a grand  assault  in  force ; no  doubt  you  believe,  as  I cer- 
tainly do,  that  it  is  the  thing  to  do ; we  are  strong,  and  everything  is  hot  for  the 
-contest.  Trollop’s  espousal  of  our  cause  has  immensely  helped  us  and  we  grow 
in  power  constantly.  Ten  of  the  opposition  were  called  away  from  town  about 
noon  (but — so  it  is  said — onh/  for  one  day).  Six  others  are  sick,  but  expect  to  be 
•about  again  to-morrow  or  next  day.,  a friend  tells  me.  A bold  onslaught  is  worth 
trying.  Go  for  a suspension  of  the  rules  ! You  will  find  we  can  swing  a two- 
thirds  vote — I am  perfectly  satisfied  of  it.  The  Lord’s  truth  will  prevail. 

“ Dilworthy. 

Mr.  Buckstone  had  reported  the  bills  from  his  committee, 
one  by  one,  leaving  the  bill  to  the  last.  When  the  House 
liad  voted  upon  the  acceptance  or  rejection  of  the  report 


CHAIRMAN  OF  THE  COMMITTEE. 


'^pon  all  but  it,  and  the  question  now  being  upon  its  disposal — 
Mr.  Buckstone  begged  that  the  House  would  give  its  atten- 
tion to  a few  remarks  wliicli  he  desired  to  make.  His  com- 
mittee had  instructed  him  to  report  the  bi^^  favorably  ; he 


406 


MR.  BUCKSTONE  ADDRESSES  THE  HOUSE. 


wished  to  explain  the  nature  of  the  measure,  and  thus  justify 
the  committee’s  action  ; the  hostility  roused  by  the  press 
would  then  disappear,  and  the  bill  would  shine  forth  in  its 
true  and  noble  character.  lie  said  that  its  provisions  were 
simple.  It  incorporated  the  Knobs  Industrial  University,, 
locating  it  in  East  Tennessee,  declaring  it  open  to  all  persons 
without  distinction  of  sex,  color  or  religion,  and  committing 
its  management  to  a board  of  perpetual  trustees,  with  power 
to  fill  vacancies  in  their  own  number.  It  provided  for  the 
erection  of  certain  buildings  for  the  University,  dormitories,, 
lecture-halls,  museums,  libraries,  labratories,  work-shops,  fur- 
naces, and  mills.  It  provided  also  for  the  purchase  of  sixty- 
five  thousand  acres  of  land,  (fully  described)  for  the  purposes 
of  the  University,  in  the  Knobs  of  East  Tennessee.  And  it 
appropriated  [blank]  dollars  for  the  purchase  of  the  Land,, 
which  should  be  the  property  of  the  national  trustees  in  trust 
for  the  uses  named. 

Every  effort  had  been  made  to  secure  the  refusal  of  the 
whole  amount  of  the  property  of  the  Hawkins  heirs  in  the 
Knobs,  some  seventy-five  thousand  acres  Mr.  Buckstone  said.. 
But  Mr.  Washington  Hawkins  (one  of  the  heirs)  objected.. 
He  was,  indeed,  very  reluctant  to  sell  any  part  of  the  land  at 
any  price ; and  indeed  this  reluctance  was  justifiable  whea 
one  considers  how  constantly  and  how  greatly  the  property 
is  rising  in  value. 

What  the  South  needed,  continued  Mr.  Buckstone,  was 
skilled  labor.  Without  that  it  would  be  unable  to  develop 
its  mines,  build  its  roads,  work  to  advantage  and  without 
great  waste  its  fruitful  land,  establish  manufactures  or  enter 
upon  a prosperous  industrial  career.  Its  laborers  were 
almost  altogether  unskilled.  Change  them  into  intelligent,, 
trained  workmen,  and  you  increased  at  once  the  capital,  the 
resources  of  the  entire  south,  which  would  enter  upon  a 
prosperity  hitherto  unknown.  In  five  3’ears  the  increase  in 
local  wealth  would  not  only  reimburse  tlie  government  for  the 
outlay  in  this  appropriation,  but  pour  untold  wealth  into  the 
treasury 


OBJECT  OF  THE  KNOBS  INDUSTRIAL  SCHOOL.  407 


This  was  the  material  view,  and  the  least  important  in  the 
honorable  gentleman’s  opinion.  [Here  he  referred  to  some 
notes  furnished  him  by  Senator  Hilworthy,  and  then  con- 
tinued.] God  had  given  us  the  care  of  these  colored  millions. 
What  account  should  we  render  to  Him  of  our  stewardship? 
We  had  made  them  free.  Should  we  leave  them  ignorant? 
We  had  cast  them  upon  their  own  resources.  Should  we 
leave  them  without  tools  ? We  could  not  tell  what  the  inten- 
tions of  Providence  are  in  regard  to  these  peculiar  people,  but 
our  duty  was  plain.  The  Knobs  Industrial  University  would 
be  a vast  school  of  modern  science  and  practice,  worthy  of  a 
great  nation.  It  would  combine  the  advantages  of  Zurich, 
Freiburg,  Creuzot  and  the  Sheffield  Scientific.  Providence 
had  apparently  reserved  and  set  apart  the  Knobs  of  East 
Tennessee  for  this  purpose.  What  else  were  they  for?  Was 
it  not  wonderful  that  for  more  than  thirty  years,  over  a gen- 
eration, the  choicest  portion  of  them  had  remained  in  one 
family,  untouched,  as  if  consecrated  for  some  great  use  ! 

It  might  be  asked  why  the  government  should  buy  this 
land,  when  it  had  millions  of  acres,  more  than  the  railroad 
companies  desired,  which  it  might  devote  to  this  purj^ose? 
He  answered,  that  the  government  had  no  such  tract  of  land 
as  this.  It  had  nothing  comparable  to  it  for  the  purposes  of 
the  University.  This  was  to  be  a school  of  mining,  of  engi- 
neering, of  the  working  of  metals,  of  chemistry,  zoology, 
botany,  'uanufactures,  agriculture,  in  short  of  all  the  com- 
plicated industries  that  make  a state  great.  There  was  no 
place  for  the  location  of  such  a school  like  the  Knobs  of  East 
Tennessee-  The  hills  abounded  in  metals  of  all  sorts,  iron  in 
all  its  combinations,  copper,  bismuth,  gold  and  silver  in  amall 
quantities,  platinum  he  believed,  tin,  aluminium ; it  was  covered 
with  forests  and  strange  plants ; in  the  woods  were  found  the 
coon,  the  opossum,  the  fox,  the  deer  and  many  other  animals 
who  roamed  in  the  domain  of  natural  history  ; coal  existed  in 
enormous  quantity  and  no  doubt  oil ; it  was  such  a place  for 
the  practice  of  agricultural  experiments  that  any  student  who 


408 


A NOISY  DEBATE. 


had  been  successful  there  would  have  an  easy  task  in  any 
other  portion  of  the  country. 

1^0  place  offered  equal  facilities  for  experiments  in  mining, 
metallurgy,  engineering.  He  expected  to  live  to  see  the 
day  when  the  youth  of  the  south  would  resort  to  its  mines, 
its  workshops,  its  labratories,  its  furnaces  and  factories  for 
practical  instruction  in  all  the  great  industrial  pursuits. 

A noisy  and  rather  ill-natured  debate  followed,  now,  and 
lasted  hour  after  hour.  The  friends  of  the  bill  were  instruct- 
ed by  the  leaders  to  make  no  effort  to  check  this  j it  was 
deemed  better  strategy  to  tire  out  the  opposition  ; it  was  de- 
cided to  vote  down  every  proposition  to  adjourn,  and  so  con- 


THE  HOUSE. 


tinue  the  sitting  into  the  night ; opponents  might  desert,  then, 
one  by  one  and  weaken  their  party,  for  they  had  no  personal 
stake  in  the  bill. 

Sunset  came,  and  still  the  fight  went  on  ; the  gas  was  lit, 
the  crowd  in  the  galleries  began  to  thin,  but  the  contest  con- 
tinued ; the  crowd  returned,  by  and  by,  with  hunger  and 
thirst  appeased,  and  aggravated  the  hungry  and  thirsty  House 
by  looking  contented  and  comfortable  ; but  still  the  wrangle 
lost  nothing  of  its  bitterness.  Hecesses  were  moved  plain- 
tively by  the  opposition,  and  invariably  voted  down  by  the 
University  army. 


rilE  HOUSE  AT  MIDNIGHT. 


409 


At  midiiiglit  the  House  presented  a spectacde  calculated  to 
interest  a stranger.  The  great  galleries  were  still  thronged 
— though  only  with  men,  now ; the  bright  colors  that  had 
made  them  look  like  hanging  gardens  were  gone,  with  the 
ladies.  The  reporters’  gallery  was  merely  occupied  by  one  or 
two  watchful  sentinels  of  the  quill-driving  guild  ; the  main 
body  cared  nothing  for  a debate  that  had  dwindled  to  a mere 
va])oring  ( f dull  speakers  and  now  and  then  a brief  quarrel 
over  a point  of  order ; but  there  was  an  unusually  large 
attendance  of  journalists  in  the  importers’  waiting-room,  chat- 
ting, smoking,  and  keeping  on  the  qui  mve  for  the  general 
irru])tion  of  the  Congressional  volcano  that  must  come  when 
the  time  was  ripe  for  it.  Senator  Dilworthy  and  Philip  were 
in  tlie  Diplomatic  Gallery  ; VVashington  sat  in  the  public  gal- 
lery, and  Col.  Sellers  was  not  far  away.  The  Colonel  had 
been  flying  about  the  corridors  and  button-holing  Congress- 
imen  all  the  evening,  and  believed  that  he  had  accomplished  a 
world  of  valuable  service;  but  fatigue  was  telling  upon  him, 
now,  and  he  was  quiet  and  speechless — for  once.  Below,  a 
few  Senators  lounged  upon  the  sofas  set  apart  for  visitors, 
.and  talked  with  idle  Congressmen.  A dreaiw  member  was 
.•speaking;  the  presiding  officer  was  nodding  ; here  and  there 
little  knots  of  members  stood  in  the  aisles,  whis])ering  to- 
gether ; all  about  the  House  others  sat  in  all  the  various  atti- 
tudes that  express  weariness ; some,  tilted  back,  had  one  or 
more  legs  disposed  upon  their  desks  ; some  sharpened  pencils 
indolently  ; some  scribbled  •aimlessly ; some  yawned  and 
stretched ; a great  many  lay  upon  their  breasts  upon  the 
■desks,  sound  asleep  and  gently  snoring.  The  flooding  gas- 
light from  the  fancifully  wrought  roof  poured  dowm  upon 
the  tranquil  scene.  Hardly  a sound  disturbed  the  stillness, 
save  the  monotonous  eloquence  of  the  gentleman  who  occu- 
pied the  floor.  How  and  then  a warrior  of  the  opposition 
broke  down  under  the  pressure,  gave  it  up  and  went  home. 

Mr.  Buckstone  began  to  think  it  might  be  safe,  now,  to 
proceed  to  business.”  He  consulted -with  Trollop  and  one 
or  two  others.  Senator  Dilworthy  descended  to  the  floor  of 


410 


PRESSING  A VOTE. 


the  House  and  they  went  to  meet  him.  After  a brief  com- 
parison of  notes,  the  Congressmen  sought  their  seats  and  sent 
pages  about  the  House  with  messages  to  friends.  These  lat- 
ter instantly  roused  up,  yawned,  and  began  to  look  alert. 
The  moment  the  floor  was  unoccupied,  Mr.  Buckstone  rose, 
with  an  injured  look,  and  said  it  was  evident  that  the  oppo- 
nents of  the  bill  were  merely  talking  against  time,  hoping  in 
this  unbecoming  way  to  tire  out  the  friends  of  the  measure 
and  so  defeat  it.  Such  conduct  might  be  respectable  enough 
in  a village  debating  society,  but  it  was  trivial  among  states- 
men, it  w^as  out  of  place  in  so  august  an  assemblage  as  the 
House  of  Bepresentatives  of  the  United  States.  The  friends 
of  the  bill  had  been  not  only  willing  that  its  opponents  should 
express  their  opinions,  but  had  strongly  desired  it.  They 
courted  the  fullest  and  freest  discussion ; but  it  seemed  to 
him  that  this  fairness  was  but  illy  appreciated,  since  gentle- 
men were  capable  of  taking  advantage  of  it  for  selflsh  and 
unworthy  ends.  This  trifling  had  gone  far  enough.  He 
called  for  the  question. 

The  instant  Mr.  Buckstone  sat  down,  the  storm  burst  forth. 
A dozen  gentlemen  sprang  to  their  feet. 

“ Mr.  Speaker  ! ” 

“ Mr.  Speaker  ! ” 

Mr.  Speaker  ! ” 

“ Order ! Order ! Order ! Question ! Question ! ” 

The  sharp  blows  of  the  Speaker’s  gavel  rose  above  the  din. 

The  “previous  question,”  that  hated  gag,  was  moved  and 
carried.  All  debate  came  to  a sudden  end,  of  course. 
Triumph  Ho.  1. 

Then  the  vote  was  taken  on  the  adoption  of  the  report  and 
it  carried  by  a surprising  majority. 

Mr.  Buckstone  got  the  floor  again  and  moved  that  the  rulea 
be  suspended  and  the  bill  read  a flrst  time. 

Mr.  Trollop — “ Second  the  motion  ! ” 

The  Speaker — “ It  is  moved  and — ” 

. Clamor  of  Voices.  “ Move  we  adjourn ! Second  the 
motion ! Adjourn  ! Adjourn  ! Order  ! Order ! ” 


SUSPENDING  THE  KULES. 


411 


The  Speaker,  (after  using  his  gavel  vigorously) — “It  is 
moved  and  seconded  that  the  House  do  now  adjourn.  All 
those  in  favor — ” 

Voices — “ Division  ! Division  ! Ayes  and  nays  ! Ayes 
and  nays ! ” 

It  was  decided  to  vote  upon  the  adjournment  by  ayes  and 
nays.  This  was  war  in  earnest.  The  excitement  was  furious.. 
The  galleries  were  in  commotion  in  an  instant,  the  reporters 
swarmed  to  their  places,  idling  members  of  the  House  flocked 
to  their  seats,  nervous  gentlemen  sprang  to  their  feet,  pages 
flew  hither  and  thither,  life  and  animation  were  visible  every- 
where, all  the  long  ranks  of  faces  in  the  building  were 
kindled. 

“ This  thing  decides  it ! ” thought  Mr.  Buckstone  ; “ but 
let  the  flght  proceed.” 

The  voting  began,  and  every  sound  ceased  but  the  calling 
f the  names  and  the  “Aye!”  “No!”  “No!”  “Aye!”' 

of  the  responses.  There  was  not  a movement  in  the  House  ; 
the  people  seemed  to  hold  their  breath. 

The  voting  ceased,  and  then  there  was  an  interval  of  dead, 
silence  while  the  clerk  made  up  his  count.  There  was  a two- 
thirds  vote  on  the  University  side — and  two  over  ! 

The  Speaker — “ The  rules  are  suspended,  the  motion  is 
carried — first  reading  of  the  hill 

By  one  impulse  the  galleries  broke  forth  into  stormy 
applause,  and  even  some  of  the  members  of  the  House  were 
not  wholly  able  to  restrain  their  feelings.  The  Speaker’s 
gavel  came  to  the  rescue  and  his  clear  voice  followed : 

“ Order,  gentlemen  ! The  House  will  come  to  order  ! If 
spectators  offend  again,  the  Sergeant-at-arms  will  clear  the 
galleries !”' 

Then  he  cast  his  eyes  aloft  and  gazed  at  some  object  atten- 
tively for  a moment.  All  eyes  followed  the  direction  of  the 
Speaker’s,  and  then  there  was  a general  titter.  The  Speaker 
said : 

“ Let  the  Sergeant-at  Arms  inform  the  gentleman  that  his 
conduct  is  an  infringement  of  the  dignity  of  the  House — and 


^412 


SHAEP  FIGHTING. 


one  whicli  is  not  warranted  by  the  state  of  the  weather.” 

Poor  Sellers  was  the  culprit.  He  sat  in  the  front  seat  of 
the  gallery,  with  his  arms  and  his  tired  body  overflowing  the 
Lahistrade — sound  asleep,  dead  to  all  excitements,  all  disturb- 
ances. The  fluctuations  of  the  Washington  weather  had 
influenced  his  dreams,  perhaps,  for  during  the  recent  tempest 
of  applause  he  had  hoisted  his  gingham  umbrella  and  calmly 
gone  on  with  his  slumbers.  Washington  Hawkins  had  seen 
the  act,  but  was  not  near  enough  at  hand  to  save  his  friend, 
.and  no  one  who  was  near  enough  desired  to  spoil  the  effect. 
Put  a neighbor  stirred  up  the  Colonel,  now  that  the  House 
had  its  eye  upon  him,  and  the  great  speculator  furled  his  tent 
dike  the  Arab.  He  said  : 

“ Bless  my  soul,  I’m  so  absent-minded  ’^dien  I get  to  think- 
ing! I never  w^ear  an  umbrella  in  the  house— did  anybody 
notice  it?  What — asleep?  Indeed?  And  did  you  wake 
me  sir  ? Thank  you — thank  you  very  much  indeed.  It 
might  have  fallen  out  of  my  hands  and  been  injured.  Admir- 
:able  article,  sir — present  from  a friend  in  Hong  Kong ; one 
doesn’t  come  across  silk  like  that  in  this  country — it’s  the  real 
Toung  Hyson,  I’m  told.” 

By  this  time  the  incident  was  forgotten,  for  the  House  was 
fit  war  again.  Victory  was  almost  in  sight,  now,  and  the 
friends  of  the  bill  threw  themselves  into  their  work  with 
enthusiasm.  They  soon  moved  and  carried  its  second  read- 
ing, and  after  a strong,  sharp  fight,  carried  a motion  to  go 
into  Committee  of  the  whole.  The  Speaker  left  his  place, 
of  course,  and  a chairman  was  appointed. 

Kow  the  contest  raged  hotter  than  ever — for  the  authority 
that  compels  order  when  the  House  sits  (2<9aHouse,  is  greatly 
diminished  when  it  sits  as  Committee.  ^The  main  flght 
came  upon  the  filling  of  the  blanks  with  the  sum  to  be  appro- 
priated for  the  purchase  of  the  land,  )f  course!^ 

Mr.  Biicksione — “Mr.  Chairman,  I move  you,  sir.  that  the 
W’ords  three  millions  of  be  inserted.” 

Mr.  Hadley — “ Mr.  Chairman,  I move  that  the  words  tw(^ 
K<md  a half  dollars  be  inserted.” 


COL.  SELLERS  ASLEEP  1>1  HOUSE  OF  KEPRESEMTATIVES 


■ , 


VICTORY!  THE  BILL  PASSED. 


413- 


Mr.  Clawson— Chairman,  I move  the  insertion  of 
the  words  five  and  twenty  cents,  as  representing  the  true 
value  of  this  barren  and  isolated  tract  of  desolation.” 

The  question,  according  to  rule,  was  taken  upon  the  small- 
est sum  first.  It  was  lost. 

Then  upon  the  next  smallest  sum.  Lost,  also. 

And  then  upon  the  three  millions.  After  a vigorous  battle 
that  lasted  a considerable  time,  this  motion  was  carried. 

Then,  clause  by  clause  the  bill  was  read,  discussed,  and 
amended  in  trifling  particulars,  and  now  the  Committee  rose 
and  reported. 

The  moment  the  House  had  resumed  its  functions  and  re- 
ceived the  report,  Mr.  Buckstone  moved  and  carried  the  third 
reading  of  the  bill. 

The  same  bitter  war  over  the  sum  to  be  paid  was  fought 
over  again,  and  now  that  the  ayes  and  nays  could  be  called 
and  placed  on  record,  every  man  was  compelled  to  vote  by 
name  on  the  three  millions,  and  indeed  on  every  paragraph 
of  the  bill  from  the  enacting  clause  straight  through.  But  as 
before,  the  friends  of  the  measure  stood  firm  and  voted  in  a 
solid  body  every  time,  and  so  did  its  enemies. 

The  supreme  moment  was  come,  now,  but  so  sure  was  the 
result  that  not  even  a voice  was  raised  to  interpose  an  ad- 
journment. The  enemy  were  totally  demoralized.  The  bill 
was  put  upon  its  final  passage  almost  without  dissent,  and 
the  calling  of  the  ayes  and  nays  began.  When  it  was  ended 
the  triumph  was  complete — the  two-thirds  vote  held  good, 
and  a veto  was  impossible,  as  far  as  the  House  was  con- 
cerned ! 

Mr.  Buckstone  resolved  that  now  that  the  nail  was  driven 
home,  he  would  clinch  it  on  the  other  side  and  make  it  stay 
forever.  He  moved  a reconsideration  of  the  vote  by  which 
the  bill  had  passed.  The  motion  was  lost,  of  course,  and  the 
great  Industrial  University  act  was  an  accomplished  fact  as 
far  as  it  was  in  the  power  of  the  House  of  Bepresentatives  to 
make  it  so. 

There  was  no  need  to  move  an  adjournment.  The  instant 


414 


CASTLES  IN  THE  AIR. 


the  last  motion  was  decided,  the  enemies  of  the  University 
rose  and  flocked  out  of  the  Hall,  talking  angrily,  and  its 
friends  flocked  after  them  jubilant  and  congratulatory.  The 
galleries  disgorged  their  burden,  and  presently  the  House 
was  silent  and  deserted. 

When  Col.  Sellers  and  Washington  stepped  out  of  the 
building  they  were  surprised  to  find  that  the  daylight  was 
old  and  the  sun  well  up.  Said  the  Colonel : 

“ Give  me  your  hand,  my  boy  ! You’re  all  right  at  last ! 
You’re  a millionaire!  At  least  you’re  going  to  be.  The 


A HEARTY  SHAKE, 


thing  is  dead  sure.  Don’t  you  bother  about  the  Senate. 
Leave  me  and  Dilworthy  to  take  care  of  that.  Hun  along 
home,  now,  and  tell  Laura.  Lord,  it’s  magnificent  news — 
perfectly  magnificent  1 Run,  now.  I’ll  telegraph  my  wife. 
She  must  come  here  and  help  me  build  a house.  Every- 
thing’s all  right  now  ! ” 

Washington  was  so  dazed  by  his  good  fortune  and  so  be- 
wildered by  the  gaudy  pageant  of  dreams  that  was  already 


FROM  UNDER  THE  CLOUDS. 


415 


trailing  its  long  ranks  through  his  brain,  that  he  wandered 
he  knew  not  where,  and  so  loitered  by  the  way  that  when  at 
last  he  reached  home  he  woke  to  a sudden  annoyance  in  the 
fact  that  his  news  must  be  old  to  Laura,  now,  for  of  course 
Senator  Dilworthy  must  have  already  been  home  and  told 
her  an  hour  before.  He  knocked  at  her  door,  but  there  was 
no  'Stnswer. 

That  is  like  the  Duchess,”  said  he.  “ Always  cool.  A 
body  can’t  excite  her — can’t  keep  her  excited,  anyway.  How 
she  has  gone  off  to  sleep  again,  as  comfortably  as  if  she  were 
used  to  picking  up  a million  dollars  every  day  or  two.” 

Then  he  went  to  bed.  But  he  could  not  sleep ; so  he  got 
up  and  wrote  a long,  rapturous  letter  to  Louise,  and  another 
to  his  mother.  And  he  closed  both  to  much  the  same  effect : 

“Laura  will  be  queen  of  America,  now,  and  she  will  be  applauded,  and  hon- 
ored and  petted  by  the  whole  nation.  Her  name  will  be  in  every  one’s  mouth 
more  than  ever,  and  how  they  will  court  her  and  quote  her  bright  speeches. 
And  mine,  too,  I suppose;  though  they  do  that  more  already,  than  they  really 
seem  to  deserve.  Oh,  the  world  is  so  bright,  now,  and  so  cheery ; the  clouds  are 
all  gone,  our  long  struggle  is  ended,  our  troubles  are  all  over.  Nothing  can  ever 
make  us  unhappy  any  more.  You  dear  faithful  ones  will  have  the  reward  of 
your  patient  waiting  now.  How  father’s  wisdom  is  proven  at  last!  And  how  I 
repent  me,  that  there  have  been  times  when  I lost  faith  and  said  the  blessing 
he  stored  up  for  us  a tedious  generation  ago  was  but  a long-drawn  curse,  a 
blight  upon  us  all.  But  everything  is  well,  now — we  are  done  with  poverty, 
and  toil,  weariness  and  heart-breakings ; all  the  world  is  filled  with  sunshine.” 


CHAPTER  XLYL 


Forte  ^ I’aceto  di  vin  dolce. 

Ne  bi^  swylc  cw^nlic  feaw 
idese  to  efnanne, 
jTcah  de  hio  aenlicu  sy, 
faette  freo^u-webbe 
feores  onsaeoe, 
sefter  lig-tome, 
leofne  mannan. 

Beotmdf. 

Philip  left  the  capltol  and  walked  up  Pennsylvania 
Avenue  in  company  with  Senator  Dil worthy.  It  was  a 
bright  spring  morning,  the  air  was  soft  and  inspiring ; in  the 
deepening  wayside  green,  the  pink  flush  of  the  blossoming 
peach  trees,  the  soft  suffusion  on  the  heights  of  Arlington, 
and  the  breath  of  the  warm  south  wind  was  apparent  the 
annual  miracle  of  the  resurrection  of  the  earth. 

The  Senator  took  off  his  hat  and  seemed  to  open  his  soul 
to  the  sweet  influences  of  the  morning.  After  the  heat  and 
noise  of  the  chamber,  under  its  dull  gas-illuminated  glass 
canopy,  and  the  all  night  struggle  of  passion  and  feverish 
excitement  there,  the  open,  tranquil  world  seemed  like 
Heaven.  The  Senator  was  not  in  an  exultant  mood,  but  rather 
in  a condition  of  holy  joy,  befitting  a Christian  statesman 
whose  benevolent  plans  Providence  has  made  its  own  and 
stamped  with  approval.  The  great  battle  had  been  fought, 
but  the  measure  had  still  to  encounter  the  scrutiny  of  the 
Senate,  and  Providence  sometimes  acts  differently  in  the  two 
Houses.  Still  the  Senator  was  tranquil,  for  he  knew  that 

416 


DISINTEKESTEDNESS  OF  THE  SENATOR.  41T 

there  is  an  esprit  de  corps  in  the  See  ate  which  does  not  exist 
in  the  House,  the  effect  of  which  is  to  make  the  members 
complaisant  towards  the  projects  of  each  other,  and  to  extend 
a mutual  aid  which  in  a more  vulgar  body  would  be  called 
log-rolling.” 

‘‘  It  is,  under  Providence,  a good  night’s  work,  Mr.  Sterl- 
ing. The  government  has  founded  an  institution  which  will 


SENATOR  DILWORTHY  TRANQUIL. 


remove  half  the  difficulty  from  the  Soutliern  problem.  And 
it  is  a good  thing  for  the  Hawkins  heirs,  a very  good  thing. 
Laura  will  be  almost  a millionaire.” 

Do  you  think,  Mr.  Dil worthy,  that  the  Hawkinses  will  get 
much  of  the  money  ? ” asked  Philip  innocently,  remembering 
the  fate  of  the  Columbus  Piver  appropriation. 

The  Senator  looked  at  his  companion  scrutinizingly  for  a 
moment  to  see  if  he  meant  any  thing  personal,  and  then 
replied, 

“Undoubtedly,  undoubtedly.  I have  had  their  interests 
greatly  at  heart.  There  will  of  course  be  a few  expenses, 
but  the  widow  and  orphans  will  realize  all  that  Mr.  Hawkins 
dreamed  of  for  them.” 

The  birds  were  singing  as  they  crossed  the  Presidential 
Square,  now  bright  with  its  green  turf  and  tender  foliage. 
After  the  two  had  gained  the  steps  of  the  Senator’s  house 
they  stood  a moment,  looking  upon  the  lovely  prospect. 

27- 


418 


A STARTLING  DISCOVERY. 


It  is  like  the  peace  of  God/’  said  the  Senator  devoutly. 

Entering  the  house,  the  Senator  called  a servant  and  said, 
Tell  Miss  Laura  that  we  are  waiting  to  see  her.  I ought  to 
have  sent  a messenger  on  horseback  half  an  hour  ago,”  he 
added  to  Philip,  ‘‘  she  will  be  transported  with  our  victory. 
You  must  sto23  to  breakfast,  and  see  the  excitement.”  The 
servant  soon  came  back,  with  a wondering  look  and  reported, 


SHE  ain’t  dah,  sah  ! ” 


“Miss  Laura  ain’t  dah,  sah.  I reckon  she  hain’t  been  dah  all 
night.” 

The  Senator  and  Philip  both  started  up.  In  Laura’s  room 
there  were  the  marks  of  a confused  and  hasty  departure, 
drawers  half  open,  little  articles  strewn  on  the  floor.  The 
bed  had  not  been  disturbed.  Upon  inquiry  it  appeared  that 
Laura  had  not  been  at  dinner,  excusing  herself  to  Mrs.  Dil- 
worthy  on  the  plea  of  a violent  headache  ; that  she  made  a 
request  to  the  servants  that  she  might  not  be  disturbed. 

The  Senator  was  astounded.  Philip  thought  at  once  of 
Col.  Selby.  Could  Laura  have  run  away  with  him?  The 


DISAPPEAKANCE  OF  LAUKA  AND  HARRY. 


419 


Senator  thought  not.  In  fact  it  could  not  he.  Gen.  Leffen- 
"well,  the  member  from  Hew  Orleans,  had  casually  told  him 
at  the  house  last  night  that  Selby  and  his  family  went  to  Hew 
York  yesterday  morning  and  were  to  sail  for  Europe  to-day. 

Philip  had  anotiier  idea  which  he  did  not  mention.  He 
seized  his  hat,  and  saying  that  he  would  go  and  see  what  he 
could  learn,  ran  to  the  lodgings  of  Harry,  whom  he  bad  not 
seen  since  yesterday  afternoon,  when  he  left  him  to  go  to 
the  hlouse. 

Harry  was  not  in.  He  had  gone  out  wdth  a hand-bag  before 
six  o’clock  yesterday,  saying  that  he  had  to  go  to  Hew  York, 
but  should  return  next  day.  In  Harry’s  room  on  the  table 
Philip  found  this  note : — 

“Dear  Mr.  Brierly : — Can  you  meet  me  at  the  six  o’clock  train,  and  be  my 
escort  to  New  York  ? I have  to  go  about  this  University  bill,  the  vote  of  an 
absent  member  we  must  have  here.  Senator  Dilworthy  cannot  go. 

Yours  &c.,  L.  H.” 

“ Confound,  it,”  said  Philip,  “ the  noodle  has  fallen  into 
her  trap.  And  she  promised  me  she  would  let  him  alone.” 

He  only  stopped  to  send  a note  to  Senator  Dilworthy,  tell- 
ing him  what  he  had  found,  and  that  he  should  go  at  once  to 
Hew  York,  and  then  hastened  to  the  railway  station.  He 
had  to  wait  an  hour  for  a train,  and  when  it  did  start  it 
seemed  to  go  at  a snail’s  pace. 

Philip  was  devoured  with  anxiety.  Where  could  they 
have  gone  ? What  was  Laura’s  object  in  taking  Harry  ? Had 
the  flight  anything  to  do  with  Selby  ? W ould  Harry  be  such 
a fool  as  to  be  dragged  into  some  public  scandal  ? 

It  seemed  as  if  the  train  would  never  reach  Baltimore. 
Then  there  was  a long  delay  at  Havre  de  Grace.  A hot  box 
had  to  be  cooled  at  Wilmington.  Would  it  never  get  on? 
Only  in  passing  around  the  city  of  Philadelphia  did  the  train 
not  seem  to  go  slow.  Philip  stood  upon  the  platform  and 
watched  for  the  Boltons’  house,  fancied  he  could  distinguish 
its  roof  among  the  trees,  and  wondered  how  Kuth  would  feel 
if  she  knew  he  was  so  near  her. 

Then  came  J ersey , everlasting  J ersey , stupid  irritating  J ersey, 


420 


PHILIP  HEAPS  TERRIBLE  NEWS.- 


where  the  passengers  are  always  asking  which  line  they  are 
on,  and  where  they  are  to  come  out,  and  whether  they  have 
yet  reached  Elizabeth.  Launched  into  Jersey,  one  has  a vague 
notion  that  he  is  on  many  lines  and  no  one  in  particular,  and 
that  he  is  liable  at  any  moment  to  come  to  Elizabeth.  He  has 
no  notion  what  Elizabeth  is,  and  always  resolves  that  the  next 
time  he  goes  that  way  he  will  look  out  of  the  window  and  see 
what  it  is  like ; but  he  never  does.  Or  if  he  does,  he  probably 
finds  that  it  is  Princeton  or  something  of  that  sort.  He  gets 
annoyed,  and  never  can  see  the  use  of  having  different  names  for 
stations  in  Jersey.  By  and  by  there  is  Newark,  three  or  four 
Newarks  apparently ; then  marshes,  then  long  rock  cuttings 
devoted  to  the  advertisements  of  patent  medicines  and  ready- 
made clothing,  and  New  York  tonics  for  Jersey  agues,  and — 
Jersey  City  is  reached. 

On  the  ferry-boat  Philip  bought  an  evening  paper  from  a 
boy  crying  ’Ere’s  the  Evening  Gram^  all  about  the  murder,” 
and  with  breathless  haste  ran  his  eyes  over  the  following  : — 
SHOCKING  MURDER ! ! ! 

IRAGEDY  IN  HIGH  LIFE  ! ! A BEAUTIFUL  WOMAN  SHOOTS  A DISTINGUISHED  CONFEDER- 
ATE SOLDIER  AT  THE  SOUTHERN  HOTEL  ! ! ! JEALOUSY  THE  CAUSE  ! ! ! ! 

This  morning  occurred  another  of  those  shocking  murders  which  have  become 
the  almost  daily  food  of  the  newspapers,  the  direct  result  of  the  socialistic  doc- 
trines and  woman’s  rights  agitations,  which  have  made  every  woman  the  avenger 
of  her  own  wrongs,  and  all  society  the  hunting  ground  for  her  victims. 

About  nine  o’clock  a lady  deliberately  shot  a man  dead  in  the  public  parlor 
of  the  Southern  Hotel,  coolly  remarking,  as  she  threw  down  her  revolver  and 
permitted  herself  to  be  taken  into  custody,  “He  brought  it  on  himself.”  Our 
reporters  were  immediately  dispatched  to  the  scene  of  the  tragedy,  and  gathered 
the  following  particulars. 

Yesterday  afternoon  arrived  at  the  hotel  from  Washington,  Col.  George  Selby 
and  family,  who  had  taken  passage  and  were  to  sail  at  noon  to-day  in  the  steamer 
Scotia  for  England.  The  Colonel  was  a handsome  man  about  forty,  a gentleman 
of  wealth  and  high  social  position,  a resident  of  New  Orleans.  He  served  with 
distinction  in  the  confederate  army,  and  received  a wound  in  the  leg  from  which 
he  has  never  entirely  recovered,  being  obliged  to  use  a cane  in  locomotion. 

This  morning  at  about  nine  o’clock,  a lady,  accompanied  by  a gentleman, 
called  at  the  office  of  the  hotel  and  asked  for  Col,  Selby.  The  Colonel  was  at 
breakfast.  Would  the  clerk  tell  him  that  a lady  and  gentleman  wished  to  see 
him  for  a moment  in  the  parlor  ? The  clerk  says  that  the  gentleman  asked  her, 
“What  do  you  want  to  see  him  for?”  and  that  she  replied,  “He  is  going  to 
Europe,  and  I ought  to  just  say  good  by.” 


EEPORT  OF  THE  SHOCKING  MURDER. 


421 


Col.  Selby  was  informed,  and  the  lady  and  gentleman  were  shown  to  the  par- 
lor, in  which  were  at  the  time  three  or  four  other  persons.  Five  minutes  after 
two  shots  were  fired  in  quick  succession,  and  there  was  a rush  to  the  parlor  from 
which  the  reports  came. 

Col.  Selby  was  found  lying  on  the  floor,  bleeding,  but  not  dead.  Two  gentle- 
men, who  had  just  come  in,  had  seized  the  lady,  who  made  no  resistance,  and 
she  was  at  once  given  in  charge  of  a police  officer  who  arrived.  The  persons 
who  were  in  the  parlor  agree  substantially  as  to  what  occurred.  They  had  hap- 
pened to  be  looking  towards  the  door  when  the  man — Col.  Selby — entered  with 
his  cane,  and  they  looked  at  him,  because  he  stopped  as  if  surprised  and  fright- 
ened, and  made  a backward  movement.  At  the  same  moment  the  lady  in  the 
bonnet  advanced  towards  him  and  said  something  like,  “ George,  will  you  go 
with  me  ?”  He  replied,  throwing  up  his  hand  and  retreating,  “ My  God  ! I can’t, 
•don’t  fire,”  and  the  next  instant  two  shots  were  heard  and  he  fell.  The  lady 
appeared  to  be  beside  herself  with  rage  or  excitement,  and  trembled  very  much 
when  the  gentlemen  took  hold  of  her ; it  was  to  them  she  said,  “ He  brought  it 
.on  himself.” 

Col.  Selby  was  carried  at  once  to  his  room  and  Dr.  Puffer,  the  eminent  sur- 
'geon,  was  sent  for.  It  was  found  that  he  was  shot  through  the  breast  and 
through  the  abdomen.  Other  aid  was  summoned,  but  the  wounds  were  mortal, 
and  Col.  Selby  expired  in  an  hour,  in  pain,  but  his  mind  was  clear  to  the  last, 
;and  he  made  a full  deposition.  The  substance  of  it  was  that  his  murderess  is  a 
Miss  Laura  Hawkins,  whom  he  had  known  at  Washington  as  a lobbyist,  and  had 
had  some  business  with  her.  She  had  followed  him  with  her  attentions  and 
solicitations,  and  had  endeavored  to  make  him  desert  his  wife  and  go  to  Europe 
with  her.  When  he  resisted  and  avoided  her,  she  had  threatened  him.  Only 
the  day  before  he  left  Washington  she  had  declared  that  he  should  never  go  out 
'•of  the  city  alive  without  her. 

It  seems  to  have  been  a deliberate  and  premeditated  murder,  the  woman  fol- 
lowing him  from  Washington  on  purpose  to  commit  it. 

We  learn  that  the  murderess,  who  is  a woman  of  dazzling  and  transcendent 
'beauty  and  about  twenty-six  or  seven,  is  a niece  of  Senator  Dilworthy,  at  whose 
house  she  has  been  spending  the  winter.  She  belongs  to  a high  Southern  fam- 
ily, and  has  the  reputation  of  being  an  heiress.  Like  some  other  great  beauties 
and  belles  in  Washington  however  there  have  been  whispers  that  she  had  some- 
thing to  do  with  the  lobby.  If  we  mistake  not  we  have  heard  her  name  men- 
tioned in  connection  with  the  sale  of  the  Tennessee  Lands  to  the  Knobs  Univer- 
sity, the  bill  for  which  passed  the  House  last  night. 

Her  companion  “is  Mr.  Harry  Brierly,  a New  York  dandy,  who  has  been  in 
Washington.  His  connection  with  her  and  with  this  tragedy  is  not  known,  but 
he  was  also  taken  into  custody,  and  will  be  detained  at  least  as  a witness. 

P.  S.  One  of  the  persons  present  in  the  parlor  says  that  after  Laura  Hawkins 
Kad  fired  twice,  she  turned  the  pistol  towards  herself,  but  that  Brierly  sprang 
.and  caught  it  from  her  hand,  and  that  it  was  he  who  threw  it  on  the  floor. 

Further  particulars  with  full  biographies  of  all  the  parties  in  our  next  edition. 

Philip  hastened  at  once  to  the  Southern  Hotel,  where  he 


422 


REVE^^GE  AT  LAST. 


found  still  a great  state  of  excitement,  and  a thousand  differ- 
ent and  exaggerated  stories  passing  from  mouth  to  mouth. 
The  witnesses  of  the  event  had  told  it  over  so  many  times 
that  they  had  worked  it  up  into  a most  dramatic  scene,  and 
embellished  it  with  whatever  could  heighten  its  awfulness. 
Outsiders  had  taken  up  invention  also.  The  Colonel’s  wife 
had  gone  insane,  they  said.  The  children  had  rushed  into  the 


AS  THE  WITNESSES  DESCRIBED  IT. 


parlor  and  rolled  themselves  in  their  father’s  blood.  The 
hotel  clerk  said  that  he  noticed  there  was  murder  in  the 
woman’s  eye  when  he  saw  her.  A person  who  had  met  the 
woman  on  the  stairs  felt  a creeping  sensation.  Some  thought 
Brierly  was  an  accomplice,  and  that  he  had  set  the  woman 
on  to  kill  his  rival.  Some  said  the  woman  showed  the 
calmness  and  indifference  of  insanity. 

Philip  learned  that  Harry  and  Lar.ra  had  both  been  taken 
to  the  city  prison,  and  he  went  there  ; but  he  was  not  admitted. 
Hot  being  a newspaper  reporter,  he  could  not  see  either  of 
them  that  night ; but  the  officer  questioned  him  suspiciously 


IMPORTANT  OFFICIAL  INVESTIGATION. 


423 


and  asked  him  who  he  was.  He  might  perhaps  see  Brierly  in 
the  morning. 

The  latest  editions  of  the  evening  papers  had  the  result  of 
the  inquest.  It  was  a plain  enough  case  for  the  jury,  but 
they  sat  over  it  a long  time,  listening  to  the  wrangling  of  the 
physicians.  Dr.  Puifer  insisted  that  the  man  died  from  the  ef- 
fects of  the  wound  in  the  chest.  Dr.  Dobb  as  strongly  in- 


THE  LEARNED  DOCTORS. 


sisted  that  the  wound  in  the  abdomen  caused  death.  Dr. 
Golightly  suggested  that  in  his  opinion  death  ensued  from  a 
complication  of  the  two  wounds  and  perhaps  other  causes. 
He  examined  the  table  waiter,  as  to  whether  Col.  Selby  ate 
any  breakfast,  and  what  he  ate,  and  if  lie  had  any  appetite. 

The  jury  finally  threw  themselves  back  upon  tbe  indisputable 
fact  that  Selby  was  dead,  that  either  wound  would  liave  killed 
him  (admitted  by  the  doctors),  and  rendered  a verdict  that  he 
died  from  pistol-shot  wounds  inflicted  by  a pistol  in  the  hands 
of  Laura  Hawkins. 

The  morning  papers  blazed  with  big  type,  and  overflowed 
with  details  of  the  murder.  The  accounts  in  the  evening 
papers  were  only  the  premonitory  drops  to  this  mighty 
shower.  The  scene  was  dramatically  wmrked  up  in  column 
after  column.  There  were  sketches,  biographical  and  histori- 
cal. There  were  long  spiecials”  from  \YasIiington,  giving  a 
full  history  of  Laura’s  career  there,  with  the  names  of  men 


424: 


UNOFFICIAL  INVESTIGATION. 


with  whom  she  was  said  to  be  intimate,  a description  of  Sen- 
ator Dilworthy’s  residence  and  of  his  family,  and  of  Laura^s 
room  in  his  house,  and  a sketch  of  the  Senator’s  appearance  and 
what  he  said.  There  was  a great  deal  about  her  beauty,  her 
accomplishments  and  her  brilliant  position  in  society,  and  her 
doubtful  position  in  society.  There  was  also  an  interview 
with  Col.  Sellers  and  another  with  Washington  Hawkins, 
the  brother  of  the  murderess.  One  journal  had  a long  dis- 
patch from  Hawkey e,  reporting  the  excitement  in  that  quiet 
village  and  the  reception  of  the  awful  intelligence. 

All  the  parties  had  been  interviewed.”  There  were  re- 
ports of  conversations  with  the  clerk  at  the  hotel ; with  the 
call-boy ; with  the  waiter  at  table,  with  all  the  witnesses, 
with  the  policeman,  with  the  landlord  (who  wanted  it  under- 


IMPORTANT  BUSINESS. 


stood  that  nothing  of  that  sort  had  ever  happened  in  his 
house  before,  although  it  had  always  been  frequented  by 
the  best  Southern  society,)  and  with  Mrs.  Col.  Selby.  There 
were  diagrams  illustrating  the  scene  of  the  shooting,  and 


THE  WORLD’S  TALK. 


425 


Tiews  of  the  hotel  and  street,  and  portraits  of  the  parties. 

There  were  three  minute  and  different  statements  from  the 
doctors  about  the  wounds,  so  technically  worded  that  nobody 
could  understand  them.  Harry  and  Laura  had  also  been 

interviewed  ” and  there  was  a statement  from  Philip  him- 
self, which  a reporter  had  knocked  him  up  out  of  bed  at  mid- 
night to  give,  though  how  he  found  him,  Philip  never  could 
con  j ecture. 

What  some  of  the  journals  lacked  in  suitable  length  for  the 
occasion,  they  made  up  in  encyclopcedic  information  about 
other  similar  murders  and  shootings. 

The  statement  from  Laura  was  not  full,  in  fact  it  was  frag- 
mentary, and  consisted,  of  nine  parts  of  the  reporter’s  valuable 
observations  to  one  of  Laura’s,  and  it  was,  as  the  reporter 
significantly  remarked,  “ incoherent.”  But  it  appeared  that 
Laura  claimed  to  be  Selby’s  wife,  or  to  have  been  his  wife, 
that  he  had  deserted  her  and  betrayed  her,  and  that  she  was 
going  to  follow  him  to  Europe.  When  the  reporter  asked  : 

What  made  you  shoot  him.  Miss  Hawkins  ? ” Laura’s 
only  reply  was,  very  simply. 

Did  I shoot  him?  Do  they  say  I shot  him  ?”  And  she 
would  say  no  more. 

The  news  of  the  murder  was  made  the  excitement  of  the 
day.  Talk  of  it  filled  the  town.  The  facts  reported  were 
scrutinized,  the  standing  of  the  parties  was  discussed,  the 
dozen  different  theories  of  the  motive,  broached  in  the  news- 
papers, were  disputed  over. 

During  the  night  subtle  electricity  had  carried  the  tale 
-over  all  the  wires  of  the  continent  and  under  the  sea;  and  in 
all  villages  and  towns  of  the  Union,  from  the  Atlantic  to  the 
territories,  and  away  up  and  down  the  Pacific  slope,  and  as 
far  as  London  and  Paris  and  Berlin,  that  morning  the  name 
of  Laura  Hawkins  was  spoken  by  millions  and  millions  of 
people,  while  the  owner  of  it — the  sweet  child  of  years  ago, 
the  beautiful  queen  of  Washington  drawing  rooms — sat  shiv- 
ering on  her  cot-bed  in  the  darkness  of  a damp  cell  in  the 
Tombs, 


CHAPTER  XLYII. 


— Mana  qo  c’u  x-opon-vi  ri  y’oyeualal,  ri  v’achihilal!  ahcarroc  cah,  ahcarro© 
uleu ! la  quitzih  varal  in  camel,  in  zachel  varal  chuxmut  cah,  chuxmut  uleu ! 

Rahinal-Achl. 


PHILIP’S  first  effort  was  lo  get  Harry  ont  of  the  Tombs. 

He  gained  permission  to  see  him,  in  the  presence  of  an 
officer,  during  the  day,  and  he  found  that  hero  very  mudi 
cast  down. 

“ I never  intended  to  come  to  such  a place  as  this,  old  fel- 
low,” he  said  to  Philip  ; “ it’s  no  place  for  a gentleman,  they’ve 
no  idea  how  to  treat  a gentleman.  Look  at  that  provender,” 
pointing  to  his  uneaten  prison  ration.  “They  tell  me  I am 
detained  as  a witness,  and  I passed  the  night  among  a lot  of 
cut-throats  and  dirty  rascals — a pretty  witness  I’d  be  in  a 
month  spent  in  such  company.” 

“But  what  under  heavens,”  asked  Philip,  “induced you  to 
come  to  Hew  York  with  Laura ! What  was  it  for  ? ” 

“What  for?  Why,  she  wanted  me  to  come.  I didn’t 
know  anything  about  that  cursed  Selby.  She  said  it  was 
lobby  business  for  the  University.  I’d  no  idea  what  she 
was  dragging  me  into  that  confounded  hotel  for.  I suppose 
she  knew  that  the  Southerners  all  go  there,  and  thought  she’d 
find  her  man.  Oh  ! Lord,  I wish  I’d  taken  your  advice.  You 
might  as  well  murder  somebody  and  have  the  credit  of  it,  as 

426 


A VISIT  TO  LAURA  IN  THE  TOMBS.' 


42T 


get  into  the  newspapers  the  way  I have.  She’s  pure  devil^ 
that  girl.  You  ought  to  have  seen  how  sweet  she  was  on 
me  ; what  an  ass  I am  .” 

Well,  I’m  not  going  to  dispute  a poor  prisoner.  But  the 
first  thing  is  to  get  you  out  of  this.  I’ve  brought  the  note 
Laura  wrote  you,  for  one  thing,  and  I’ve  seen  your  uncle,  and 
explained  the  truth  of  the  case  to  him.  He  will  he  here 
soon.” 

Harry’s  uncle  came,  with  other  friends,  and  in  the  course 
of  the  day  made  such  a showing  to  the  authorities  that  Harry 
was  released,  on  giving  bonds  to  appear  as  a witness  when 
wanted.  His  spirits  rose  with  their  usual  elasticity  as  soon 
as  he  was  out  of  Centre  Street,  and  he  insisted  on  giving 
Philip  and  his  friends  a royal  supper  at  Helmonico’s,  an 
excess  which  was  perhaps  excusable  in  the  rebound  of  his 
feelings,  and  which  was  committed  with  his  usual  reckless 
generosity.  Hari*y  ordered  the  supper,  and  it  is  perhaps 
needless  to  say  that  Philip  paid  the  bill. 

Neither  of  the  young  men  felt  like  attempting  to  see  Laura 
that  day,  and  she  saw  no  company  except  the  newspaper 
reporters,  until  the  arrival  of  Col.  Sellers  and  Washington 
Hawkins,  who  had  hastened  to  New  York  with  all  speed. 

They  found  Laura  in  a cell  in  the  upper  tier  of  the  women’s 
department.  The  cell  was  somewhat  larger  than  those  in  the 
men’s  department,  and  might  be  eight  feet  by  ten  square,, 
perhaps  a little  longer.  It  was  of  stone,  floor  and  all,  and 
the  roof  was  oven  shaped.  A narrow  slit  in  the  roof  admitted 
sufficient  light,  and  was  the  only  means  of  ventilation ; when 
the  window  was  opened  there  was  nothing  to  prevent  the 
rain  coming  in.  The  only  means  of  heating  being  from  the 
corridor,  when  the  door  was  ajar,  the  cell  was  chilly  and  at 
this  time  damp.  It  was  whitewashed  and  clean,  but  it  had  a 
slight  jail  odor  ; its  only  furniture  was  a narrow  iron  bedstead, 
with  a tick  of  straw  and  some  blankets,  not  too  clean. 

' When  Col.  Sellers  was  conducted  to  this  cell  by  the  matron 
and  looked  in,  his  emotions  quite  overcame  him,  the  tears 


428 


THE  COLONEL  TALKS  CHEERFULLY. 


rolled  down  his  cheeks  and  his  voice  trembled  so  that  he  could 
hardly  speak.  W ashington  was  unable  to  say  anything  ; he 
looked  from  Laura  to  the  miserable  creatures  who  were  walk- 
ing in  the  corridor  with  unutterable  disgust.  Laura  was 
.alone  calm  and  self-contained,  though  she  was  not  unmoved 
'by  the  sight  of  the  grief  of  her  friends. 

Are  you  comfortable,  Laura  ? ” was  the  first  word  the 
Colonel  could  get  out. 

‘‘  You  see,”  she  replied.  “ I can’t  say  it’s  exactly  comfort- 
;able.” 

“ Are  you  cold  ? ” 

“ It  is  pretty  chilly.  The  stone  fioor  is  like  ice.  It  chills 
me  through  to  step  on  it.  I have  to  sit  on  the  bed.” 

Poor  thing,  poor  thing.  And  can  you  eat  any  thing?” 

“No,  I am  not  hungry.  I don’t  know  that  I could  eat 
any  thing,  I can’t  eat  thatP 

“ Oh  dear,”  continued  the  Colonel,  “ it’s  dreadful.  But 
cheer  up,  dear,  cheer  up ; ” and  the  Colonel  broke  down 
entirely. 

“ But,”  he  Avent  on,  “ we’ll  stand  by  you.  We’ll  do  every- 
thing for  you.  1 know  you  couldn’t  have  meant  to  do  it,  it 
must  have  been  insanity,  you  know,  or  something  of  that  sort. 
Y^ou  never  did  anything  of  the  sort  before.” 

Laura  smiled  very  faintly  and  said, 

“ Yes,  it  was  something  of  that  sort.  It’s  all  a whirl.  He 
was  a villain ; you  don’t  knoAV.” 

“ I’d  rather  have  killed  him  myself,  in  a duel  you  know, 
all  fair.  I aausIi  I had.  But  don’t  you  be  down.  We’ll  get 
you  off — tlie  best  counsel,  the  lawyers  in  New  York  can  do 
anything  ; I’ve  read  of  cases.  But  you  must  be  comfortable 
noAv.  We’A'e  brought  some  of  your  clothes,  at  the  hotel. 
What  else  can  we  get  for  you  ? ” 

Laura  suggested  that  she  Avould  like  some  sheets  for  her 
bed,  a piece  of  carpet  to  step  on,  and  her  meals  sent  in  ; and 
some  books  and  writing  materials  if  it  was  allowed.  The 
Colonel  and  Washington  promised  to  procure  all  these  things, 


VISITING  LAUllA  IN  THE  TOMBS 


LAURA’S  STORY  BECOMING  KNOWN. 


429 


and  then  took  their  sorrowful  leave,  a great  deal  more  affected 
than  the  criminal  was,  apparently,  by  her  situation. 

The  Colonel  told  the  matron  as  he  went  away  that  if  she 
would  look  to  Laura’s  comfort  a little  it  shouldn’t  be  the; 


PROMISED  PATRONAGE. 


worse  for  her ; and  to  the  turnkey  who  let  them  out  he  pat- 
ronizingly said, 

“ You’ve  got  a big  establishment  here,  a credit  to  the  city. 
I’ve  got  a friend  in  there — I shall  see  you  again,  sir.” 

By  the  next  day  something  more  of  Laura’s  own  story 
began  to  appear  in  the  newspapers,  colored  and  heightened 
by  reporters’  rhetoric.  Some  of  them  cast  a lurid  light  upon 
the  Colonel’s  career,  and  represented  his  victim  as  a beautiful 
avenger  of  her  murdered  innocence ; and  others  pictured  her 
as  his  willing  paramour  and  pitiless  slayer*  Her  communica- 
tions to  the  reporters  were  stopped  by  her  lawyers  as  soon  as 
they  were  retained  and  visited  her,  but  this  fact  did  not  pre- 
vent— it  may  have  facilitated — the  appearance  of  casual  para- 
graphs here  and  there  which  were  likely  to  beget  popular 
sympathy  for  the  poor  girl. 


430 


NEWSPAPER  ELOQUENCE. 


. The  occasion  did  not  pass  without  improvement  ” by  the 
leading  journals ; and  Philip  preserved  the  editorial  comments 
of  three  or  four  of  them  which  pleased  him  most.  These  he 
used  to  read  aloud  to  his  friends  afterwards  and  ask  them 
to  guess  from  which  journal  each  of  them  had  been  cut.  One 
began  in  this  simple  manner  : — 

History  never  repeats  itself,  but  the  Kaleidoscopic  combinations  of  the  pictured 
present  often  seem  to  be  constructed  out  of  the  broken  fragments  of  antique  le- 
gends. Washington  is  not  Corinth,  and  Lais,  the  beautiful  daughter  of  Timandra, 
might  not  have  been  the  prototype  of  the  ravishing  Laura,  daughter  of  the  ple- 
beian house  of  Hawkins;  but  the  orators  and  statesmen  who  were  the  purchasers 
of  the  favors  of  the  one,  may  have  been  as  incorruptible  as  the  Republican  states- 
men who  learned  how  to  love  and  how  to  vote  from  the  sweet  lips  of  the  Wash- 
ington lobbyist ; and  perhaps  the  modern  Lais  would  never  have  departed  from 
the  national  Capital  if  there  had  been  there  even  one  republican  Xenocrates  who 
resisted  her  blandishments.  But  here  the  parallel  fails.  Lais,  wandering  away 
with  the  youth  Hippostratus,  is  slain  by  the  women  who  are  jealous  of  her  charms. 
Laura,  straying  into  her  Thessaly  with  the  youth  Brierly,  slays  her  other  lover 
and  becomes  the  champion  of  the  wrongs  of  her  sex. 

Another  journal  began  its  editorial  with  less  lyrical  beauty, 
but  with  equal  force.  It  closed  as  follows : — 

With  Laura  Hawkins,  fair,  fascinating  and  fatal,  and  with  the  dissolute  Colonel 
of  a lost  cause,  who  has  reaped  the  harvest  he  sowed,  we  have  nothing  to  do. 
But  as  the  curtain  rises  on  this  awful  tragedy,  we  catch  a glimpse  of  the  society 
at  the  capital  under  this  Administration,  which  we  cannot  contemplate  without 
alarm  for  the  fate  of  the  Republic. 

A third  newspaper  took  up  the  subject  in  a different  tone. 
It  said : — 

Our  repeated  predictions  are  verified.  The  pernicious  doctrines  which  we 
have  announced  as  prevailing  in  American  society  have  been  again  illustrated. 
The  name  of  the  city  is  becoming  a reproach.  We  may  have  done  something  in 
averting  its  ruin  in  our  resolute  exposure  of  the  Great  Frauds ; we  shall  not  be 
deterred  from  insisting  that  the  outraged  laws  for  the  protection  of  human  life 
shall  be  vindicated  now,  so  that  a person  can  walk  the  streets  or  enter  the  pub- 
lic houses,  at  least  in  the  day-fime,  without  the  risk  of  a bullet  through  his 
brain. 

A fourth  journal  began  its  remarks  as  follows  : — 

The  fullness  with  which  we  present  our  readers  this  morning  the  details  of 
the  Selby-Hawkins  homicide  is  a miracle  of  modern  journalism.  Subsequent 
investigation  can  do  little  to  fill  out  the  picture.  It  is  the  old  story.  A beauti- 
ful woman  shoots  her  absconding  lover  in  cold-blood , and  we  shall  doubtless 
learn  in  due  time  that  if  she  was  not  as  mad  as  a hare  in  this  month  of  March, 
she  was  at  least  laboring  under  what  is  termed  “ momentary  insanity.” 


HOW  SENATOR  DILWORTHY  WAS  AFFECTED.  431 


It  would  not  be  too  much  to  say  that  upon  the  first  publica- 
tion of  the  facts  of  the  tragedy,  there  was  an  almost  univer- 
sal feeling  of  rage  against  the  murderess  in  the  Tombs,  and 
that  reports  of  her  beauty  only  heightened  the  indignation. 

It  was  as  if  she  presumed  upon  that  and  upon  her  sex,  to  defy 
the  law ; and  there  was  a fervent  hope  that  the  law  would 
take  its  plain  course. 

Yet  Laura  was  not  without  friends,  and  some  of  them  very 
influential  too.  She  had  in  her  keeping  a great  many  secrets 
and  a great  many  reputations,  perhaps.  Who  shall  set  him- 
self up  to  judge  human  motives  ? Why,  indeed,  might  we 
not  feel  pity  for  a woman  whose  brilliant  career  had  been  so 
suddenly  extinguished  in  misfortune  and  crime  ? Those  who 
had  known  her  so  well  in  Washington  might  find  it  impossi- 
ble to  believe  that  the  fascinating  woman  could  have  had 
murder  in  her  heart,  and  would  readily  give  ear  to  the  current 
sentimentality  about  the  temporary  aberration  of  mind  under 
the  stress  of  personal  calamity. 

Senator  Dilworthy  was  greatly  shocked,  of  course,  but  he  • 
was  full  of  charity  for  the  erring. 

‘‘We  shall  all  need  mercy,”  he  said.  “ Laura  as  an  inmate 
of  my  family  was  a most  exemplary  female,  amiable,  affec- 
tionate and  truthful,  perhaps  too  fond  of  gaiety,  and  neglect- 
ful of  the  externals  of  religion,  but  a woman  of  principle. 
She  may  have  had  experiences  of  which  I am  ignorant,  but 
she  could  not  have  gone  to  this  extremity  if  she  had  been  in 
her  own  right  mind.” 

To  the  Senator’s  credit  be  it  said,  he  was  willing  to  help 
Laura  and  her  family  in  this  dreadful  trial.  She,  herself,  was 
not  without  money,  for  the  Washington  lobbyist  is  not  seldom 
more  fortunate  than  the  Washington  claimant,  and  she  was 
able  to  procure  a good  many  luxuries  to  mitigate  the  severity 
of  her  prison  life.  It  enabled  her  also  to  have  her  own  family 
near  her,  and  to  see  some  of  them  daily.  The  tender  solici- 
tude of  her  mother,  her  childlike  grief,  and  her  firm  belief  in 
the  real  guiltlessness  of  her  daughter,  touched  even  the  custo- 
dians of  the  Tombs  who  are  enured  to  scenes  of  pathos. 


432 


THE  FAITHFUL  MOTHER. 


Mrs.  Hawkins  had  hastened  to  her  daughter  as  soon  as  she 
received  money  for  the  journey.  She  had  no  reproaches,  she 
had  only  tenderness  and  pity.  She  could  not  shut  out  the 


NO  LOVE  LIKE  A MOTHER’S. 


dreadful  facts  of  the  case,  but  it  had  been  enough  for  her 
that  Laura  had  said,  in  their  first  interview,  ‘^mother,  I did 
not  know  what  I was  doing.”  She  obtained  lodgings  near 
the  prison  and  devoted  her  life  to  her  daughter,  as  if  she  had 
been  really  her  own  child.  She  would  have  remained  in  the 
prison  day  and  night  if  it  had  been  permitted.  She  was  aged 
and  feeble,  but  this  great  necessity  seemed  to  give  her  new 
life. 

The  pathetic  story  of  the  old  lady’s  ministrations,  and  her 
simplicity  and  faith,  also  got  into  the  newspapers  in  time,  and 
probably  added  to  the  pathos  of  this  wrecked  woman’s  fate, 
which  was  beginning  to  be  felt  by  the  public.  It  was  certain 
that  she  had  champions  who  thought  that  her  wrongs  ought 
to  be  placed  against  her  crime,  and  expressions  of  this  feeling 
came  to  her  in  various  ways.  Visitors  came  to  see  her,  and 


INDICTED  FOR  MURDER. 


433 


gifts  of  fruit  and  flowers  were  sent,  winch  brought  some 
cheer  into  her  hard  and  gloomy  cell. 

Laura  had  declined  to  see  either  Philip  or  Harry,  somewhat 
to  the  former’s  relief,  who  had  a notion  that  she  would  neces- 
sarily feel  humiliated  by  seeing  him  after  breaking  faith  with 
him,  but  to  the  discomfiture  of  Harry,  who  still  felt  her  fas- 
cination, and  thought  her  refusal  heartless.  He  told  Philip 
that  of  course  he  had  got  through  with  such  a woman,  but 
he  wanted  to  see  her. 

Philip,  to  keep  him  from  some  new  foolishness,  persuaded 
him  to  go  with  him  to  Philadelphia,  and  give  his  valuable 
services  in  the  mining  operations  at  Ilium. 

The  law  took  its  course  with  Laura.  She  was  indicted  for 
murder  in  the  first  degree,  and  held  for  trial  at  the  summer 
term.  The  two  most  distinguished  criminal  lawyers  in  the 
city  had  been  retained  for  her  defence,  and  to  that  the  reso- 
lute woman  devoted  her  days,  with  a courage  that  rose  as  she 
consulted  with  her  counsel  and  understood  the  methods  of 
criminal  procedure  in  New  York. 

She  was  greatly  depressed,  however,  by  the  news  from 
Washington.  Congress  adjourned  and  her  bill  had  failed  to 
pass  the  Senate.  It  must  wait  for  the  next  session. 

28- 


CHAPTER  XL VIII. 


— In  our  working,  nothing  us  availle ; 

For  lost  is  all  our  labour  and  travaille, 

And  all  the  cost  a twenty  devil  way 
Is  lost  also,  which  we  upon  it  lay. 

Chaucvr, 

He  moonihoawa  ka  aie. 

Hawaiian  Proverb, 

IT  had  been  a bad  winter,  somehow,  for  the  firm  of  Penny, 
backer,  Bigler  and  Small.  These  celebrated  contractors 
usually  made  more  money  during  the  session  of  the  legisla- 
ture at  Harrisburg  than  upon  all  their  summer  work,  and  this 
•winter  had  been  unfruitful.  It  was  unaccountable  to  Bigler. 

‘‘You  see,  Mr.  Bolton,”  he  said,  and  Philip  was  present  at 
the  conversation,  “ it  puts  us  all  out.  It  looks  as  if  politics 
was  played  out.  We’d  counted  on  the  year  of  Simon’s 
re-election.  And,  now,  he’s  re-elected,  and  I’ve  yet  to  see 
the  first  man  who’s  the  better  for  it.” 

“You  don’t  mean  to  say,”  asked  Philip,  “that  he  went  in 
without  paying  anything  ? ” 

“ I ot  a cent,  not  a dash  cent,  as  I can  hear,”  repeated  Mr. 
Bigler,  indignantly.  “ I call  it  a swindle  on  the  state.  How 
it  was  done  gets  me.  I never  saw  such  a tight  time  for 
money  in  Harrisburg.” 

“ Were  there  no  combinations,  no  railroad  jobs,  no  mining 
schemes  put  through  in  connection  with  the  election  ? ” 

431 


MR.  BIGLER  CLEANED  OUT. 


435 


that  I know,”  said  Bigler,  shaking  his  head  in  dis- 
gust. ‘‘  In  fact  it  was  openly  said,  that  there  was  no  money 
in  the  election.  It’s  perfectly  unheard  of.” 

^^Ferhaps,’'  suggested  Philip,  “it  was  effected  on  what  the 
insurance  companies  call  the  ‘ endowment,’  or  the  ‘ paid  up  ’ 
plan,  by  which  a policy  is  secured  after  a certain  time  with- 
out further  payment.'^ 

“ You  think  then,”  said  Mr.  Bolton  smiling,  “ that  liberal 
and  sagacious  politician  might  own  a legislature  after  a time, 
and  not  be  bothered  with  keeping  up  his  payments  ? ” 

“Whatever  it  is,”  interrupted  Mr.  Bigler,  “it’s  devilish 
ingenious,  and  goes  ahead  of  my  calculations ; it’s  cleaned  me 
out,  when  I thought  we  had  a dead  sure  thing.  I tell  you 
what  it  is,  gentlemen,  I shall  go  in  for  reform.  Things  have 
got  pretty  mixed  when  a legislature  will  give  away  a United 
States  senatorship.” 

It  was  melancholy,  but  Mr.  Bigler  was  not  a man  to  be 


crushed  by  one  misfortune,  or  to  lose  his  confidence  in 
human  nature,  on  one  exhibition  of  apparent  honesty.  He 
was  already  on  his  feet  again,  or  would  be  if  Mr.  Bolton 
could  tide  him  over  shoal  water  for  ninety  days. 

“We’ve  got  something  with  money  in  it,”  he  explained  to 
Mr.  Bolton,  “ got  hold  of  it  by  good  luck.  We’ve  got  the 
entire  contract  for  Dobson’s  Patent  Pavement  for  the  city  of 
Mobile.  See  here.” 

Mr.  Bigler  made  some  figures ; contract  so  much,  coat  of 


436 


MR.  BOLTON  AGAIN  SAYS  YESl 


work  and  materials  so  mucli,  profits  so  much.  At  the  end  of 
three  months  the  city  would  owe  the  company  three  hundred 
and  seventy-five  thousand  dollars — two  hundred  thousand  of 
that  would  be  profits.  The  whole  job  was  worth  at  least  a 
million  to  the  company — it  might  be  more.  There  could  be 
no  mistake  in  these  figures ; here  was  the  contract,  Mr.  Bolton 
knew  what  materials  were  worth  and  what  the  labor  would 
cost. 

Mr.  Bolton  knew  perfectly  well  from  sore  experience  that 
there  was  always  a mistake  in  figures  when  Bigler  or  Small 
made  them,  and  he  knew  that  he  ought  to  send  the  fellow 
about  his  business.  Instead  of  that,  he  let  him  talk. 

They  only  wanted  to  raise  fifty  thousand  dollars  to  carry 
on  the  contract — that  expended  they  would  have  city  bonds. 
Mr.  Bolton  said  he  hadn’t  the  money.  But  Bigler  could 
raise  it  on  his  name.  Mr.  Bolton  said  he  had  no  right  to  put 
his  family  to  that  risk.  But  the  entire  contract  could  be 
assigned  to  him — the  security  was  ample — it  was  a fortune  to 
him  if  it  was  forfeited.  Besides  Mr.  Bigler  had  been  unfor- 
tunate, he  didn’t  know  where  to  look  for  the  necessaries  of 
life  for  his  family.  If  he  could  only  have  one  more  chance, 
he  was  sure  he  could  right  himself.  He  begged  for  it. 

And  Mr.  Bolton  yielded.  He  could  never  refuse  such 
appeals.  If  he  had  befriended  a man  once  and  been  cheated 
by  him,  that  man  appeared  to  have  a claim  upon  him  forever. 
He  shrank,  however,  from  telling  his  wife  what  he  had  done 
on  this  occasion,  for  he  knew  that  if  any  person  was  more 
odious  than  Small  to  his  family  it  was  Bigler. 

Philip  tells  me,”  Mrs.  Bolton  said  that  evening,  “ that  the 
man  Bigler  has  been  with  thee  again  to-day.  I hope  thee 
will  have  nothing  more  to  do  with  him.” 

He  has  been  very  unfortunate,”  replied  Mr.  Bolton, 
uneasily. 

“ He  is  always  unfortunate,  and  he  is  always  getting  thee 
into  trouble.  But  thee  didn’t  listen  to  him  again  ? ” 

“Well,  mother,  his  family  is  in  want,  and  I lent  him  my 


THE  MOTHER  OE  PHILIP.  437 

name — but  I took  ample  security.  The  worst  that  can 
happen  will  be  a little  inconvenience.” 

Mrs.  Bolton  looked  grave  and  anxious,  but  she  did  not  com- 
plain or  remonstrate ; she  knew  what  a “ little  inconven- 
ience ” meant,  but  she  knew  there  was  no  help  for  it.  If  Mr. 
Bolton  had  been  on  his  way  to  market  to  buy  a dinner  for 
his  family  with  the  only  dollar  he  had  in  the  world  in  his 
pocket,  he  would  have  given  it  to  a chance  beggar  who  asked 
him  for  it.  Mrs.  Bolton  only  asked  (and  the  question  show- 
ed that  she  was  no  more  provident  than  her  husband  where 
her  heart  was  interested), 

But  has  thee  provided  money  for  Philip  to  use  in  open- 
ing the  coal  mine  ? ” 

Yes,  I have  set  apart  as  much  as  it  ought  to  cost  to  open 
the  mine,  as  much  as  we  can  afford  to  lose  if  no  coal  is  found. 
Philip  has  the  control  of  it,  as  equal  partner  in  the  venture, 
deducting  the  capital  invested.  He  has  great  contidence  in 
his  success,  and  I hope  for  his  sake  he  won’t  be  disappointed.” 

Philip  could  not  but  feel  that  he  was  treated  very  much 
like  one  of  the  Bolton  family — by  all  except  Buth.  His 
mother,  when  he  went  home  after  his  recovery  from  his  acci- 
dent, had  affected  to  be  very  jealous  of  Mrs.  Bolton,  about 
whom  and  Buth  she  asked  a thousand  questions — an  affecta- 
tion of  jealousy  which  no  doubt  concealed  a real  heartache, 
whicli  comes  to  every  mother  when  her  son  goes  out  into  the 
world  and  forms  new  ties.  And  to  Mrs.  Sterling,  a widow, 
living  on  a small  income  in  a remote  Massachusetts  village, 
Philadelphia  was  a city  of  many  splendors.  All  its  inhabi- 
tants seemed  highly  favored,  dwelling  in  ease  and  surrounded 
by  superior  advantages.  Some  of  her  neighbors  had  relations 
living  in  Philadelphia,  and  it  seemed  to  them  somehow  a 
guarantee  of  respectability  to  have  relations  in  Philadelphia. 
Mrs.  Sterling  was  not  sorry  to  have  Philip  make  his  way 
among  such  well-to-do  people,  and  she  was  sure  that  no  good 
fortune  could  be  too  good  for  his  deserts. 

“So,  sir,”  said  Buth,  when  Philip  came  from  Hew  York, 


438 


RUTH  AND  PHILIP  DISCUSS  LAURA. 


“ you  have  been  assisting  in  a pretty  tragedy.  I saw  your 
name  in  the  papers.  Is  this  woman  a specimen  of  your  west- 
ern friends  ? ” 

“My  only  assistance,”  replied  Philip,  a little  annoyed, 
“ was  in  trying  to  keep  Harry  out  of  a bad  scrape,  and  I fail- 
ed after  all.  He  walked  into  her  trap,  and  he  has  been  pun- 
ished for  it.  I’m  going  to  take  him  up  to  Ilium  to  see  if  he 
won’t  work  steadily  at  one  thing,  and  quit  his  nonsense.” 

“ Is  she  as  beautiful  as  the  newspapers  say  she  is  ? ” 

“I  don’t  know,  she  has  a kind  of  beauty  — she  is  not 
like — ’ 

“Hot  like  Alice?” 

“Well,  she  is  brilliant;  she  was  called  the  handsomest 
woman  in  Washington — dashing,  you  know,  and  sarcastic  and 
witty.  Puth,  do  you  believe  a woman  ever  becomes  a 
devil?” 

“ Men  do,  and  I don’t  know  why  women  shouldn’t.  But 
I never  saw  one.” 

“Well,  Laura  Hawkins  comes  very  near  it.  But  it  is 
dreadful  to  think  of  her  fate.” 

“ Why,  do  you  suppose  they  will  hang  a woman  ? Do  you 
suppose  they  will  be  so  barbarous  as  that  ? ” 

“ I wasn’t  thinking  of  that — it’s  doubtful  if  a Hew  York 
jury  would  find  a woman  guilty  of  any  such  crime.  But  to* 
think  of  her  life  if  she  is  acquitted.” 

“ It  is  dreadful,”  said  Ruth,  thoughtfully,  “ but  the  worst 
of  it  is  that  you  men  do  not  want  women  educated  to  do  any- 
thing, to  be  able  to  earn  an  honest  living  by  their  own  exer- 
tions. They  are  educated  as  if  they  were  always  to  be  petted 
and  supported,  and  there  was  never  to  be  any  such  thing  as 
misfortune.  I suppose,  now,  that  you  would  all  choose  to 
have  me  stay  idly  at  home,  and  give  up  my  profession.” 

“ Oh,  no,”  said  Philip,  earnestly,  “ I respect  your  resolu- 
tion. But,  Ruth,  do  you  think  you  would  be  happier  or  do 
more  good  in  following  your  profession  than  in  having  a 
home  of  your  own  ? ” 


PHILIP  RETURNS  TO  THE  MINE. 


439 


Wliat  is  to  hinder  having  a home  of  mj  own  ? ” 

Nothing,  perhaps,  only  you  never  would  he  in  it — you 
would  be  away  day  and  night,  if  you  had  any  practice ; and 
what  sort  of  a home  would  that  make  for  your  husband  ? ’’ 
What  sort  of  a home  is  it  for  the  wife  whose  husband 
is  always  away  riding  about  in  his  doctor’s  gig  ? ” 

Ah,  you  know  that  is  not  fair.  The  woman  makes  the 
home.” 

Philip  and  Ruth  often  had  this  sort  of  discussion,  to  which 
Philip  was  always  trying  to  give  a personal  turn.  He  vras 
now  about  to  go  to  Ilium  for  the  season,  and  he  did  not  like 
to  go  wdthout  some  assurance  from  Ruth  that  she  might  per- 
haps love  him  some  day,  when  he  was  worthy  of  it,  and  when 
he  could  offer  her  something  better  than  a partnership  in  his 
poverty. 

I should  work  with  a great  deal  better  heart,  Ruth,”  he 
said  the  morning  he  was  taking  leave,  if  I knew  you  cared 
for  me  a little.” 

Ruth  was  looking  down ; the  color  came  faintly  to  her 
cheeks,  and  she  hesitated.  She  needn’t  be  looking  down,  he 
thought,  for  she  was  ever  so  much  shorter  than  tall  Philip. 

“It’s  not  much  of  a place.  Ilium,”  Philip  went  on,  as  if  a 
little  geographical  remark  would  fit  in  here  as  well  as  any- 
thing else,  “ and  I shall  have  plenty  of  time  to  think  over  the 
responsibility  I have  taken,  and — ” his  observation  did  not 
seem  to  be  coming  out  any  where. 

But  Ruth  looked  up,  and  there  was  a light  in  her  eyes  that 
quickened  Phil’s  pulse.  She  took  his  hand,  and  said  with 
serious  sweetness : 

“ Thee  mustn’t  lose  heart,  Philip.”  And  then  she  added, 
in  another  mood,  “ Thee  knows  I graduate  in  the  summer  and 
shall  have  my  diploma.  And  if  any  thing  happens — mines 
explode  sometimes — thee  can  send  for  me.  Farewell.’^ 

The  opening  of  the  Ilium  coal  mine  was  begun  with  energy, 
but  without  many  omens  of  success.  Philip  was  running 
a tunnel  into  the  breast  of  the  mountain,  in  faith  that  the 


440 


MINING. 


coal  stratum  ran  there  as  it  ought  to.  How  far  he  must  go  in 
he  believed  he  knew,  but  no  one  could  tell  exactly.  Some  of 
the  miners  said  that  they  should  probably  go  through  the 
mountain,  and  that  the  hole  could  be  used  for  a railway  tun- 
nel. The  mining  camp  was  a busy  place  at  any  rate.  Quite 
a settlement  of  board  and  log  shanties  had  gone  up,  with  a 
blacksmith  shop,  a small  machine  shop,  and  a temporary  store 
for  supplying  the  wants  of  the  workmen.  Philip  and  Harry 
pitched  a commodious  tent,  and  lived  in  the  full  enjojmient 
of  the  free  life. 

There  is  no  difficulty  in  digging  a hole  in  the  ground,  if 
you  have  money  enough  to  pay  for  the  digging,  but  those 
who  try  this  sort  of  work  are  always  surprised  at  the 
large  amount  of  money  necessary  to  make  a small  hole.  The 
earth  is  never  willing  to  yield  one  product,  hidden  in  her 
bosom,  without  an  equivalent  for  it.  And  when  a person 
asks  of  her  coal,  she  is  quite  apt  to  require  gold  in  exchange. 

It  was  exciting  work  for  all  concerned  in  it.  As  the  tun- 
nel advanced  into  the  rock  every  day  promised  to  be  the 
golden  day.  This  very  blast  might  disclose  the  treasure. 

The  work  went  on  week  after  week,  and  at  length  during 
the  night  as  well  as  the  daytime.  Gangs  relieved  each  other, 
and  the  tunnel  was  every  hour,  inch  by  inch  and  foot  by  foot, 
crawling  into  the  mountain.  Philip  was  on  the  stretch  of 
hope  and  excitement.  Every  pay  day  he  saw  his  funds 
melting  away,  and  still  there  w^as  only  the  faintest  show  of 
what  the  miners  call  ‘‘  signs.” 

The  life  suited  Harry,  whose  buoyant  hopefulness  was 
never  disturbed.  He  made  endless  calculations,  which 
nobody  could  understand,  of  the  probable  position  of  the 
vein.  He  stood  about  among  the  workmen  with  the  busiest  air. 
When  he  w^as  dowm  at  Ilium  he  called  himself  the  engineer 
of  the  works,  and  he  used  to  spend  hours  smoking  his  pipe 
with  the  Dutch  landlord  on  the  hotel  porch,  and  astonishing 
the  idlers  there  with  the  stories  of  his  railroad  operations  in 
Missouri.  He  talked  with  the  landlord,  too,  about  enlarging 


NO  PROGRESS  TO  REPORT. 


441 


his  hotel,  and  about  buying  some  village  lots,  in  the  prospect 
of  a rise,  when  the  mine  was  opened,  lie  taught  the  Dutch- 
man how  to  mix  a great  many  cooling  drinks  for  the  summer 
time,  and  had  a bill  at  the  hotel,  the  growing  lengt  h of  which 


THE  LANDLORD  TAKING  LESSONS. 


Mr.  Dusenheimer  contemplated  with  pleasant  anticipations. 
Mr.  Brierly  was  a very  useful  and  cheering  person  wherever 
he  went. 

Midsummer  arrived.  Philip  could  report  to  Mr.  Bolton 
■only  progress,  and  this  was  not  a cheerful  message  for  him  to 
send  to  Philadelphia  in  reply  to  inquiries  that  he  thought  be- 
came more  and  more  anxious.  Philip  himself  was  a prey  to 
the  constant  fear  that  the  money  would  give  out  before  the 
coal  was  struck. 

At  this  time  Harry  w^as  summoned  to  New  York,  to  attend 
the  trial  of  Laura  Hawkins.  It  was  possible  that  Philip 
would  have  to  go  also,  her  lawyer  wrote,  but  they  hoped  for 
a postponement.  There  w^as  important  evidence  that  they 


TRIAL  OF  LAURA. 


U2 

could  not  yet  obtain,  and  lie  hoped  the  judge  would  not 
force  them  to  a trial  unprepared.  There  were  many  reasons 
for  a delay,  reasons  which  of  course  are  never  mentioned,, 
but  which  it  would  seem  that  a New  York  judge  sometimes 
must  understand,  when  he  grants  a postponement  upon  a mo- 
tion that  seems  to  the  public  altogether  inadequate . 

Harry  went,  but  he  soon  came  back.  The  trial  was  put  off. 
Every  week  we  can  gain,  said  the  learned  counsel,  Braham, 
improves  our  chances.  The  popular  rage  never  lasts  long. 


* 


CHAPTER  XLIX. 

CoiHue  aadjHCTajo,  ho  ho  Ha404ro : 6jiecHy40  h cKpu^ocfc, 


“ Mof^re  ipa  eiye  na.”  “ Aki  ijc  (ifere  li  obb^.’* 


E’YE  struck  it !” 

This  was  the  electric  announcement  at  the  tent  door 


that  woke  Philip  out  of  a sound  sleep  at  dead  of  night,  and> 
shook  all  the  sleepiness  out  of  him  in  a trice. 

What ! Where  is  it  ? When  ? Coal  ? Let  me  see  it. 
What  quality  is  it  were  some  of  the  rapid  questions  that 
Philip  poured  out  as  he  hurriedly  dressed.  ‘‘  Harry,  wake 
up,  my  boy.  The  coal  train  is  coming.  Struck  it,  eh  ? Let’s 
see?” 

The  foreman  put  down  his  lantern,  and  handed  Philip  a 
black  lump.  There  was  no  mistake  about  it,  it  was  the  hard,, 
shining  anthracite,  and  its  freshly  fractured  surface,  glistened 
in  the  light  like  polished  steel.  Diamond  never  shone  with 
such  lustre  in  the  eyes  of  Philip. 

Harry  was  exuberant,  but  Philip’s  natural  caution  found 
expression  in  his  next  remark. 

“Xow,  Roberts,  you  are  sure  about  this?” 

What — sure  that  it’s  coal  ?” 

O,  no,  sure  that  it’s  the  main  vein.” 

“Well,  yes.  We  took  it  to  be  that.” 


444 


THE  MIDNIGHT  CALL, 


“ Did  you  from  the  first  ?” 

I can’t  say  we  did  at  first.  No,  we  didn’t.  Most  of  the 
indications  were  there,  hut  not  all  of  them,  not  all  of  them. 
So  we  thought  we’d  prospect  a bit.” 

Well  ?” 

It  was  tolerable  thick,  and  looked  as  if  it  might  be  the 


“ we’ve  struck  it.” 


^vein — looked  as  if  it  ought  to  be  the  vein.  Then  we  went  down 
<on  it  a little.  Looked  better  all  the  time.” 

When  did  you  sti’ike  it  ?” 

About  ten  o’clock.” 

Then  you’ve  been  prospecting  about  four  hours.” 

Yes,  been  sinking  on  it  something  over  four  hours.” 

I’m  afraid  you  couldn’t  go  down  very  far  in  four  hours 
• — could  you  ?” 

“ O yes — it’s  a good  deal  broke  up,  nothing  but  picking  and 
gadding  stuff.” 

‘‘Well,  it  does  look  encouraging,  sure  enough — but  then 
the  lacking  indications — ” 


BRILLIANT  ANTICIPATIONS. 


445 


“ I’d  rather  we  had  them,  Mr.  Sterling,  but  I’ve  seen  more, 
than  one  good  permanent  mine  struck  without  ’em  in  mj 
time.” 

“ Well,  that  is  encouraging  too.” 

“ Yes,  there  was  the  Union,  the  Alabama  and  the  Black 
Mohawk — all  good,  sound  mines,  you  know — all  just  exactly 
like  this  one  when  we  first  struck  them.” 

Well,  I begin  to  feel  a good  deal  more  easy.  I guess  we’vo 
really  got  it.  I remember  hearing  them  tell  about  the  Black 
Mohawk.” 

“ I’m  free  to  say  that  / believe  it,  and  the  men  all  think  so 
too.  They  are  all  old  hands  at  this  business.” 

‘‘  Come  Harry,  let’s  go  up  and  look  at  it,  just  for  the  com- 
fort of  it,”  said  Philip.  They  came  back  in  the  course  of  an. 
hour,  satisfied  and  happy. 

There  was  no  more  sleep  for  them  that  night.  They  lit 
their  pipes,  put  a specimen  of  the  coal  on  the  table,  and  made 
it  a kind  of  loadstone  of  thought  and  conversation. 

“ Of  course,”  said  Harry,  “ there  will  have  to  be  a branch 
track  built,  and  a ‘ switch-back  ’ up  the  hill.” 

‘‘Yes,  there  will  be  no  trouble  about  getting  the  money  for 
that  now.  W e could  sell  out  to-morrow  for  a handsome  sumo 
That  sort  of  coal  doesn’t  go  begging  within  a mile  of  a rail-road* 
I wonder  if  Mr.  Bolton  would  rather  sell  out  or  work  it  ?” 

“ Oh,  work  it,”  says  Harry,  “ probably  the  whole  mountain, 
is  coal  now  you’ve  got  to  it.” 

“ Possibly  it  might  not  be  much  of  a vein  after  all,”  sug- 
gested Philip. 

“ Possibly  it  is;  I’ll  bet  it’s  forty  feet  thick.  I told  you.  I 
knew  the  sort  of  thing  as  soon  as  I put  my  eyes  on  it.” 

Philip’s  next  thought  was  to  write  to  his  friends  and  an- 
nounce their  good  fortune.  To  Mr.  Bolton  he  wrote  a shorty 
business  letter,  as  calm  as  he  could  make  it.  They  had  found 
coal  of  excellent  quality,  but  they  could  not  yet  tell  with  ab- 
solute certainty  what  the  vein  was.  The  prospecting  was  still 
going  on.  Philip  also  wrote  to  Puth ; but  though  this  letter 
may  ‘have  glowed,  it  was  not  with  the  heat  of  burning 


446 


GOOD  NEWS!  GOOD  NEWS! 


anthracite.  He  needed  no  artificial  heat  to  warm  his  pen 
and  kindle  his  ardor  when  he  sat  down  to  write  to  Hath.  But 
it  must  be  confessed  that  the  words  never  flowed  so  easily 
before,  and  he  ran  on  for  an  hour  disporting  in  all  the  ex- 
travagance of  his  imagination.  When  Ruth  read  it,  she 
'doubted  if  the  fellow  had  not  gone  out  of  his  senses.  And  it 
was  not  until  she  reached  the  postscript  that  she  discovered 
the  cause  of  the  exhilaration.  P.  S. — We  have  found 
coal.” 

The  news  couldn’t  have  come  to  Mr.  Bolton  in  better  time. 
He  had  never  been  so  sorely  pressed.  A dozen  schemes  which 
he  had  in  hand,  any  one  of  which  might  turn  up  a fortune, 
all  languished,  and  each  needed  just  a little  more  money  to 
save  that  which  had  been  invested.  He  hadn’t  a piece  of 
real  estate  that  was  not  covered  with  mortgages,  even  to  the 
wild  tract  which  Philip  was  experimenting  on,  and  which  had 
no  marketable  value  above  the  incumbrance  on  it. 

He  had  come  home  that  day  early,  unusually  dejected. 

I am  afraid,”  he  said  to  his  wife,  that  we  shall  have  to 
give  up  our  house.  I don’t  care  for  myself,  but  for  thee  and 
the  children.” 

That  will  be  the  least  of  misfortunes,”  said  Mrs.  Bolton, 
cheerfully,  ‘‘if  thee  can  clear  thyself  from  debt  and  anxiety, 
which  is  wearing  thee  out,  we  can  live  any  where.  Thee 
knows  we  were  never  happier  than  when  we  were  in  a much 
humbler  home.” 

“ The  truth  is,  Margaret,  that  affair  of  Bigler  and  Small’s 
has  come  on  me  just  when  I couldn’t  stand  another  ounce. 
They  have  made  another  failure  of  it.  I might  have  known 
they  would  ; and  the  sharpers,  or  fools,  I don’t  know  which, 
have  contrived  to  involve  me  for  three  times  as  much  as  the 
first  obligation.  The  security  is  in  my  hands,  but  it  is  good 
for  nothing  to  me.  I have  not  the  money  to  do  anything 
with  the  contract.” 

Ruth  heard  this  dismal  news  without  great  surprise.  She 
had  long  felt  that  they  were  living  on  a volcano,  that  might 
go  in  to  active  operation  at  any  hour.  Inheriting  from  her 


DR.  RUTH  BOLTON’S  OPPORTUNITY.  44T 

father  an  active  brain  and  the  courage  to  undertake  new 
things,  she  had  little  of  his  sanguine  temperament  which 
blinds  one  to  difficulties  and  possible  failures.  She  had  little 
confidence  in  the  many  schemes  which  had  been  about  to  lift 
her  father  out  of  all  his  embarassments  and  into  great  wealth, 
ever  since  she  was  a child ; as  she  grew  older,  she 
rather  wondered  that  they  were  as  prosperous  as  they 
seemed  to  be,  and  that  they  did  not  all  go  to  smash  amid  so 
many  brilliant  projects.  She  was  nothing  but  a woman,  and 
did  not  know  how  much  of  the  business  prosperity  of  the 
world  is  only  a bubble  of  credit  and  speculation,  one  scheme 
helping  to  float  another  which  is  no  better  than  it,  and  the 
whole  liable  to  come  to  naught  and  confusion  as  soon  as  the 
busy  brain  that  conceived  them  ceases  its  power  to  devise,  or 
when  some  accident  produces  a sudden  panic. 

‘‘Perhaps,  I shall  be  the  stay  of  the  family,  yet,”  saidPuth, 
with  an  approach  to  gaiety.  “When  wm  move  into  a little 
house  in  town,  will  thee  let  me  put  a little  sign  on  the  door — 
J)r.  Euth  Bolton  ? Mrs.  Dr.  Longstreet,  thee  knows,  has  a 
great  income.” 

“ Who  will  pay  for  the  sign,  Euth  ?”  asked  Mr.  Bolton. 

A servant  entered  with  the  afternoon  mail  from  the  office. 
Mr.  Bolton  took  his  letters  listlessly,  dreading  to  open  them. 
He  knew  well  what  they  contained,  new  difficulties,  more 
urgent  demands  for  money. 

“ Oh,  here  is  one  from  Philip.  Poor  fellow.  I shall  feel 
his  disappointment  as  much  as  my  own  bad  luck.  It  is  hard 
to  bear  when  one  is  young.” 

He  opened  the  letter  and  read.  As  he  read  his  face  light- 
ened, and  he  fetched  such  a sigh  of  relief,  that  Mrs.  Bolton 
and  Euth  both  exclaimed. 

“ Bead  that,”  he  cried,  “ Philip  has  found  coal !” 

The  world  was  changed  in  a moment.  One  little  sentence 
had  done  it.  There  was  no  more  trouble.  Philip  had  found 
coal.  That  meant  relief.  That  meant  fortune.  A great 
weight  was  taken  off,  and  the  spirits  of  the  whole  household 
rose  magically.  Good  Money  ! beautiful  demon  of  Money, 


448  THE  OITOKTUNITY  SEEMS  TO  VANISH  AGAIN. 


wliat  an  enchanter  thou  art ! Ruth  felt  that  she  was  of  les® 
consequence  in  the  household,  now  that  Philip  had  found 
coal,  and  perhaps  she  was  not  sorry  to  feel  so. 

Mr.  Bolton  was  ten  years  ^^ounger  the  next  morning.  He 
went  into  the  city,  and  showed  his  letter  on  change.  It 


THE  MINE  AT  ILIUM. 


was  the  sort  of  news  his  friends  were  quite  willing  to  listen 
to.  They  took  a new  interest  in  him.  If  it  was  confirmed,, 
Bolton  would  come  right  up  again.  There  would  be  no  diffi- 
culty about  his  getting  all  the  money  he  wanted.  The 
money  market  did  not  seem  to  be  half  so  tight  as  it  was  the  day 
before.  Mr.  Bolton  spent  a very  pleasant  day  in  his  office, 
and  went  home  revolving  some  new  plans,  and  the  execution 
of  some  projects  he  had  long  been  prevented  from  entering 
upon  by  the  lack  of  money. 

The  day  had  been  spent  by  Philip  in  no  less  excitement. 
By  daylight,  with  Philip’s  letters  to  the  mail,  word  had  gone 
down  to  Ilium  that  coal  had  been  found,  and  very  early  a 
crowd  of  eager  spectators  had  come  up  to  see  for  themselves. 


/ 


THE  BOLTONS  IN  TROUBLE.  449 

The  ‘‘  prospecting  ” continued  day  and  night  for  upwards 
of  a week,  and  during  the  first  four  or  five  days  the  indications 
grew  more  and  more  promising,  and  the  telegrams  and  letters 
kept  Mr,  Bolton  duly  posted.  But  at  last  a change  came, 
and  the  promises  began  to  fail  with  alarming  rapidity.  In 
the  end  it  was  demonstrated  without  the  possibility  of  a doubt 
that  the  great  “ find  ” was  nothing  but  a worthless  seam. 

Philip  was  cast  down,  all  the  more  so  because  he  had  been 
so  foolish  as  to  send  the  news  to  Philadelphia  before  he 
knew  what  he  was  writing  about.  And  now  he  must  contradict 
it.  “ It  turns  out  to  be  onlj^  a mere  seam,”  he  wrote,  ‘‘  but 
we  look  upon  it  as  an  indication  of  better  further  in.” 

Alas  ! Mr.  Bolton’s  affairs  could  not  wait  for  “ indications.” 
The  future  might  have  a great  deal  in  store,  but  the  present 
was  black  and  hopeless.  It  was  doubtful  if  any  sacrifice 
could  save  him  from  ruin.  Yet  sacrifice  he  must  make,  and 
that  instantly,  in  the  hope  of  saving  something  from  the 
wreck  of  his  fortune. 

His  lovely  country  home  must  go.  That  would  bring  the 
most  ready  money.  The  house  that  he  had  built  with  loving 
thought  for  each  one  of  his  family,  as  he  planned  its  luxuri- 
ous apartments  and  adorned  it ; the  grounds  that  he  had  laid 
out,  with  so  much  deliglit  in  following  the  tastes  of  his  wife, 
with  whom  the  country,  the  cultivation  of  rare  trees  and 
flowers,  the  care  of  garden  and  lawn  and  conservatories  were 
a passion  almost ; this  home,  which  he  had  hoped  his  children 
would  enjoy  long  after  he  had  done  with  it,  must  go. 

The  family  bore  the  sacrifice  better  than  he  did.  They 
declared  in  fact — women  are  such  hypocrites — that  they  quite 
enjoyed  the  city  (it  was  in  August)  after  living  so  long  in  the 
country,  that  it  was  a thousand  times  more  convenient  in 
every  respect ; Mrs.  Bolton  said  it  was  a relief  from  the 
worry  of  a large  establishment,  and  Puth  reminded  her  father 
that  she  should  have  had  to  come  to  town  anyway  before 
long. 

Mr.  Bolton  was  relieved,  exactly  as  a water-logged  ship  is 
29- 


450 


Mil.  BOLTU:i’^  FAILURE. 


lightened  by  throwing  overboard  the  most  valuable  portion 
of  the  cargo — but  the  leak  was  not  stopped.  Indeed  his  credit 
was  injured  instead  of  helped  by  the  prudent  step  he  had 
taken.  It  was  regarded  as  a sure  evidence  of  his  embarrass- 
ment, and  it  was  much  more  difficult  for  him  to  obtain  help 
than  if  he  had,  instead  of  retrenching,  launched  into  some 
new  speculation. 

Philip  was  greatly  troubled,  and  exaggerated  his  own  share 
in  the  bringing  about  of  the  calamity. 

“ You  must  not  look  at  it  so  !”  Mr.  Bolton  wrote  him.  ‘‘You 
have  neither  helped  nor  hindered — but  you  know  you  may 
help  by  and  by.  It  would  have  all  happened  just  so,  if  we 
had  never  begun  to  dig  that  hole.  That  is  only  a drop„ 
Workaway.  I still  have  hope  that  something  will  occur  to 
relieve  me.  At  any  rate  Ave  must  not  give  up  the  mine,  so 
long  as  we  have  any  show.” 

Alas  1 the  relief  did  not  come.  Hew  misfortunes  came  in- 
stead. When  the  extent  of  the  Bigler  swindle  was  disclosed 
there  was  no  more  hope  that  Mr.  Bolton  could  extricate  him- 
self, and  he  had,  as  an  honest  man,  no  resource  except  to  sur- 
render all  his  property  for  the  benefit  of  his  creditors. 

The  Autumn  came  and  found  Philip  wmrking  with  dimin- 
ished force  but  still  with  hope.  He  had  again  and  again  been 
encouraged  by  good  “ indications,”  but  he  had  again  and 
again  been  disappointed.  He  could  not  go  on  much  longer, 
and  almost  everybody  except  himself  had  thought  it  was 
useless  to  go  on  as  long  as  he  had  been  doing. 

When  the  news  came  of  Mr.  Bolton’s  failure,  of  course  the 
work  stopped.  The  men  Avere  discharged,  the  tools  Avere 
housed,  the  hopeful  noise  of  pickman  and  driver  ceased,  and 
the  mining  camp  had  that  desolate  and  mournful  aspect 
which  always- hovers  over  a frustrated  enterprise. 

Philip  sat  doAvn  amid  the  ruins,  and  almost  Avished  he 
were  buried  in  them.  How  distant  Puth  was  now  from  him, 
now,  when  she  might  need  him  most.  How  changed  was  all 
the  Philadelphia  world,  Avhich  had  hitherto  stood  for  the  ex- 
emplification of  happiness  and  prosperity. 


PHILIP  DREAMS  DREAMS. 


451 


He  still  had  faith  that  there  was  coal  in  that  mountain. 
He  made  a picture  of  himself  living  there  a hermit  in  a 


THE  HERMIT. 


shanty  by  the  tunnel,  digging  away  with  solitary  pick  and 
wheelbarrow,  day  after  day  and  year  after  year,  until  he  grew 
gray  and  aged,  and  was  known  in  all  that  region  as  the  old 
man  of  the  mountain.  Perhaps  some  day — he  felt  it  must  he 
so  some  day — he  should  strike  coal.  But  what  if  he  did  ? 
Who  would  be  alive  to  care  for  it  then  ? What  would  he  care 
for  it  then  ? Ho,  a man  wants  riches  in  his  youth,  when  the 
world  is  fresh  to  him.  He  wondered  why  Providence  could 
not  have  reversed  the  usual  process,  and  let  the  majority  of 
men  begin  with  wealth  and  gradually  spend  it,  and  die  poor 
when  they  no  longer  needed  it. 

Harry  went  back  to  the  city.  It  w^as  evident  that  his  ser- 
vices were  no  longer  needed.  Indeed,  he  had  letters  from  his 
uncle,  which  he  did  not  read  to  Philip,  desiring  him  to  go  to  San 
Francisco  to  look  after  some  government  contracts  in  the 
harbor  there. 

Philip  had  to  look  about  him  for  something  to  do ; he  was 
like  Adam ; the  world  was  all  before  him  where  to  choose.  He 
made,  before  he  went  elsewhere,  a somewdiat  painful  visit  to 
Philadelphia,  painful  but  yet  not  without  its  sweetnesses. 
The  family  had  never  shown  him  so  much  affection  before ; 


452 


IDLE  AGAIN. 


they  all  seemed  to  think  his  disappointment  of  more  import- 
ance than  their  own  misfortune.  And  there  was  that  in 
Kuth’s  manner — in  what  she  gave  him  and  what  she  withheld 
— that  would  have  made  a hero  of  a very  much  less  promis- 
ing character  than  Philip  Sterling. 

Among  the  assets  of  the  Bolton  property,  the  Ilium  tract 
was  sold,  and  Philip  bought  it  in  at  the  vendue,  for  a song^ 
for  no  one  cared  to  even  undertake  the  mortgage  on  it  except 
himself.  He  went  away  the  owner  of  it,  and  had  ample 
time  before  he  reached  home  in  November,  to  calculate  how 
much  poorer  he  was  by  possessing  it 


CHAPTER  L. 


pa  eymdir  stri^a  a sorgfullt  sinn, 
eg  svipur  motgangs  um  vanga  ri<?a, 
og  bakivendir  per  veroldin, 
og  vellyst  brosir  pinum  qvi^a ; 

peink  allt  er  knbttott,  og  hverfast  laetr, 
sa  hl6  i dag  er  a morgun  graetr ; 

Alt  jafnar  sig ! 


Sigurd  Peterson. 


IT  is  impossible  for  tlie  historian,  with  even  the  best  inten- 
tions, to  control  events  or  compel  the  persons  of  his 
narrative  to  act  wisely  or  to  be  successful.  It  is  easy  to  see 
how  things  might  have  been  better  managed ; a very  little 
‘Change  here  and  there  would  have  made  a very  different 
history  of  this  one  now  in  hand. 

If  Philip  had  adopted  some  regular  profession,  even  some 
trade,  he  might  now  be  a prosperous  editor  or  a conscien- 
tious plumber,  or  an  honest  lawyer,  and  have  borrowed 
money  at  the  saving’s  bank  and  built  a cottage,  and  be  now 
furnishing  it  for  the  occupancy  of  Ruth  and  himself.  Instead 
^of  this,  with  only  a smattering  of  civil  engineering,  he  is  at 
his  mother’s  house,  fretting  and  fuming  over  his  ill-luck,  and 
the  hardness  and  dishonesty  of  men,  and  thinking  of  nothing 
but  how  to  get  the  coal  out  of  the  Ilium  hills. 

If  Senator  Dilworthy  had  not  made  that  visit  to  Hawkeye, 
the  Hawkins  family  and  Col.  Sellers  would  not  now  be  dan- 
cing attendance  upon  Congress,  and  endeavoring  to  tempt 
that  immaculate  body  into  one  of  those  appropriations^  for 

458 


454 


A PAGE  OF  IFS. 


the  benefit  of  its  members,  which  the  members  find  it  so  diflS- 
cult  to  explain  to  their  constituents ; and  Laura  would  not  be 
lying  in  the  Tombs,  awaiting  her  trial  for  murder,  and  doing 
her  best,  by  the  help  of  able  counsel,  to  corrupt  the  pure 
fountain  of  criminal  procedure  in  ISTew  York. 

If  Henry  Brierly  had  been  blown  up  on  the  first  Mississippi 
steamboat  he  set  foot  on,  as  the  chances  were  that  he  would 
be,  he  and  Col.  Sellers  never  would  have  gone  into  the  Co- 
lumbus Navigation  scheme,  and  probably  never  into  the  East 
Tennessee  Land  scheme,  and  he  would  not  now  be  detained  in 
New  York  from  very  important  business  operations  on  the 
Pacific  coast,  for  the  sole  purpose  of  giving  evidence  to  con- 
vict of  murder  the  only  woman  he  ever  loved  half  as  much, 
as  he  loves  himself. 

If  Mr.  Bolton  had  said  the  little  word  ‘‘  no  ’’  to  Mr.  Bigler,. 
Alice  Montague  might  now  be  spending  the  winter  in  Phila- 
delphia, and  Philip  also  (waiting  to  resume  his  mining  oper- 
ations in  the  spring)  ; and  Puth  would  not  be  an  assistant  in 
a Philadelphia  hospital,  taxing  her  strength  with  arduous 
routine  duties,  day  by  day,  in  order  to  lighten  a little  the 
burdens  that  weigh  upon  her  unfortunate  family. 

It  is  altogether  a bad  business.  An  honest  historian  who 
had  progressed  thus  far,  and  traced  everything  to  such  a con- 
dition of  disaster  and  suspension,  might  well  be  justified  in 
ending  his  narrative  and  writing — “ after  this  the  deluge.’^ 
His  only  consolation  would  be  in  the  reflection  that  he  was 
not  responsible  for  either  characters  or  events. 

And  the  most  annoying  thought  is  that  a little  money, 
judiciously  applied,  would  relieve  the  burdens  and  anxieties 
of  most  of  these  people  ; but  affairs  seem  to  be  so  arranged 
that  money  is  most  difficult  to  get  when  people  need  it  most. 

A little  of  what  Mr.  Bolton  has  weakly  given  to  unworthy 
people  would  now  establish  his  family  in  a sort  of  comfort, 
and  relieve  Ruth  of  the  excessive  toil  for  which  she  inherited 
no  adequate  physical  vigor.  A little  money  would  make  a 
prince  of  Col.  Sellers ; and  a little  more  would  cahn  the 


PHILIP  MAKES  STRONG  DETERMINATIONS. 


455 


anxiety  of  Washington  Hawkins  about  Laura,  for  however 
the  trial  ended,  he  could  feel  sure  of  extricating  her  in  the 
end.  And  if  Philip  had  a little  money  he  could  unlock  the 
stone  door  in  the  mountain  whence  would  issue  a stream  of 
shining  riches.  It  needs  a golden  wand  to  strike  that  rock. 
If  the  Knobs  University  bill  could  only  go  through,  what  a 
change  would  be  wrought  in  the  condition  of  most  of  the  per- 
sons in  this  history.  Even  Philip . himself  would  feel  the 
good  effects  of  it ; for  Harry  would  have  something  and  Col. 
Sellers  would  have  something ; and  have  not  both  these  cau- 
tious people  expressed  a determination  to  take  an  interest  in 
the  Ilium  mine  when  they  catch  their  larks? 

Philip  could  not  resist  the  inclination  to  pay  a visit  to  Fall- 
kill.  He  had  not  been  at  the  Montague’s  since  the  time  he 
saw  Ruth  there,  and  he  wanted  to  consult  the  Squire  about 
an  occupation.  He  was  determined  now  to  waste  no  more 
time  in  waiting  on  Providence,  but  to  go  to  work  at  some- 
thing, if  it  were  nothing  better  than  teaching  in  the  Fallkill 


ONE  CHANCE  OPEN. 


Seminary,  or  digging  clams  on  Hingharn  beach.  Perhaps  he 
could  read  law  in  Squire  Montague’s  office  while  earning  his 
bread  as  a teacher  in  the  Seminary. 

It  was  not  altogether  Philip’s  fault,  let  us  own,  that  he  was 
in  this  position.  There  are  many  young  men  like  him  in 


456 


WHY  PHILIP  WAS  AS  HE  WAS. 


American  society,  of  bis  age,  opportunities,  education  and 
abilities,  who  have  really  been  educated  for  nothing  and  have 
let  themselves  drift,  in  the  hope  that  they  will  find  somehow, 
and  by  some  sudden  turn  of  good  luck,  the  golden  road  to 
fortune.  He  w^as  not  idle  or  lazy,  he  had  energy  and  a dis- 
position to  carve  his  own  way.  But  he  was  born  into  a time 
when  all  young  men  of  his  age  caught  the  fever  of  specula- 
tion, and  expected  to  get  on  in  the  world  by  the  omission  of 
some  of  the  regular  processes  which  have  been  appointed 
from  of  old.  And  examples  were  not  wanting  to  encourage 
him.  He  saw  people,  all  around  him,  poor  yesterday,  rich 


WHAT  HE  EXPECTED  TO  BE. 


to-day,  who  had  come  into  sudden  opulence  by  some  means 
which  they  could  not  ha\:e  classified  among  any  of  the  regu- 
lar occupations  of  life.  A war  would  give  such  a fellow  a 
career  and  very  likely  fame.  He  might  have  been  a rail- 
road man,”  or  a politician,  or  a land  speculator,  or  one  of 
those  mysterious  people  wdio  travel  free  on  all  rail  roads  and 
steamboats,  and  are  continually  crossing  and  re-crossing  the 
Atlantic,  driven  day  and  night  about  nobody  knows  what, 
and  make  a great  deal  of  money  by  so  doing.  Probably,  at 
last,  he  sometimes  thought  with  a whimsical  smile,  he  should 
end  by  being  an  insurance  agent,,  and  asking  people  to  insure 
their  lives  for  his  benefit. 


HE  PROPOSES  STUDYING  LAW  AT  FALLKILL.  457 


Possibly  Philip  did  not  think  how  much  the  attractions  of 
Pallkill  were  increased  by  the  presence  of  Alice  there.  He 
had  known  her  so  long,  she  had  somehow  grown  into  his  life 
by  habit,  that  he  would  expect  the  pleasure  of  her  society 
wdthout  thinking  much  about  it.  Latterly  he  never  thought 
of  her  without  thinking  of  Until,  and  if  he  gave  the  subject 
any  attention,  it  was  probably  in  an  undetined  consciousness 
that  he  had  her  sympathy  in  his  love,  and  that  she  was  always 
-willing  to  hear  him  talk  about  it.  If  he  ever  wmndered  that 
Alice  herself  was  not  in  love  and  never  spoke  of  the  possi- 
bility of  her  own  marriage,  it  was  a transient  thought — for 
love  did  not  seem  necessary,  exactly,  to  one  so  calm  and 
evenly  balanced  and  with  so  many  resources  in  her  herself. 

Whatever  her  thoughts  may  have  lieen  they  were  unknown 
to  Philip,  as  they  are  to  these  historians  ; if  she  was  seeming 
to  be  what  she  was  not,  and  carrying  a burden  heavier 
than  any  one  else  carried,  because  she  had  to  bear  it  alone, 
she  was  only  doing  what  thousands  of  women  do,  with  a self- 
renunciation  and  heroism  of  which  men,  impatient  and  com- 
plaining, have  no  conception.  Have  not  these  big  babies  with 
beards  filled  all  literature  with  their  outcries,  their  griefs  and 
their  lamentations  ? It  is  always  the  gentle  sex  which  is  hard 
and  cruel  and  fickle  and  implacable. 

‘^I)o  you  think  you  would  be  contented  to  live  in  Fallkill, 
and  attend  the  county  Court?”  asked  Alice,  when  Philip  had 
opened  the  budget  of  his  new  programme. 

“Perhaps  not  always,”  said  Philip,  “ I might  go  and  prac- 
tice in  Boston  maybe,  or  go  to  Chicago.” 

“ Or  yon  might  get  elected  to  Congress.” 

Philip  looked  at  Alice  to  see  if  she  was  in  earnest  and  not 
chatfing  him.  Her  face  was  quite  sober.  Alice  was  one  of 
those  patriotic  women  in  the  rural  districts,  who  thiidc  men 
are  still  selected  for  Congress  on  account  of  qualifications  for 
the  office. 

“ Ho,”  said  Philip,  “ the  chances  are  that  a man  cannot  get 
into  congress  now  without  resorting  to  arts  and  means  that 


458 


PHILIP  AND  ALICE  DISCUSS  CONGRESS. 


should  render  him  unfit  to  go  there ; of  course  there  are 
exceptions ; but  do  you  know  that  I could  not  go  into  politics 
if  I were  a lawyer,  without  losing  standing  somewhat  in  my 
profession,  and  without  raising  at  least  a suspicion  of  my 
intentions  and  unselfishness  ? Why,  it  is  telegraphed  all 
over  the  country  and  commented  on  as  something  wonderful 
if  a congressman  votes  honestly  and  unselfishly  and  refuses 
to  take  advantage  of  his  position  to  steal  from  the  govern- 
ment.” 

“ But,”  insisted  Alice,  “ I should  think  it  a noble  ambition 
to  go  to  congress,  if  it  is  so  bad,  and  help  reform  it.  I don’t 
believe  it  is  as  corrupt  as  the  English  parliament  used  to  be, 
if  there  is  any  truth  in  the  novels,  and  I suppose  that  is 
reformed.” 

I’m  sure  I don’t  know  where  the  reform  is  to  begin.  I’ve 
seen  a perfectly  capable,  honest  man,  time  and  again,  run 
against  an  illiterate  trickster,  and  get  beaten.  I suppose  if 
the  people  wanted  decent  members  of  congress  they  would 
elect  them.  Perhaps,”  continued  Philip  with  a smile,  the 
women  will  have  to  vote.” 

‘‘Well,  I should  be  willing  to,  if  it  were  a necessity,  just  as 
I would  go  to  war  and  do  what  I could,  if  the  country 
couldn’t  be  saved  otherwise,”  said  Alice,  with  a spirit  that 
surprised  Philip,  well  as  he  thought  he  knew  her.  “ If  I 
were  a young  gentleman  in  these  times — ” 

Philip  laughed  outright.  “ It’s  just  what  Buth  used  to  say, 

‘ if  she  were  a man.’  I wonder  if  all  the  young  ladies  are 
contemplating  a change  of  sex.” 

“Bo,  only  a changed  sex,”  retorted  Alice  ; “we  comtem- 
plate  for  the  most  part  young  men  who  don’t  care  for  any- 
thing they  ought  to  care  for.” 

“Well,”  said  Philip,  looking  humble,  “I  care  for  some 
things,  you  and  Kuth  for  instance ; perhaps  I ought  not  to. 
Perhaps  I ought  to  care  for  Congress  and  that  sort  of  thing.” 

“ Don’t  be  a goose,  Philip.  I heard  from  Buth  yester- 
day.” 


MORE  IJSTEiiEttTi:Na  SUBJECT  INTliODUCED.  45^ 


Can  I see  her  letter 

No,  indeed.  But  I am  afraid  her  hard  work  is  telling  on 
her,  together  with  her  anxiety  about  her  father.” 

Do  you  think,  Alice,”  asked  Philip  with  one  of  those 
selfish  thoughts  that  are  not  seldom  mixed  with  real  love, 
that  Until  prefers  her  profession  to — to  marriage  ?” 

‘‘  Philip,”  exclaimed  Alice,  rising  to  quit  the  room,  and 
speaking  hurriedly  as  if  the  words  were  forced  from  her,  ‘^you 
are  as  blind  as  a bat ; Ruth  would  cut  olf  her  right  hand  for 
you  this  minute.” 

Philip  never  noticed  that  Alice’s  face  was  flushed  and  that 
her  voice  was  unsteady  ; he  only  thought  of  the  delicious 
words  he  had  heard.  And  the  poor  girl,  loyal  to  Ruth,  loyal 
to  Philip,  went  straight  to  her  room,  locked  the  door,  threw 


ALAS  ! POOR  ALICE. 

herself  on  the  bed  and  sobbed  as  if  her  heart  would  break. 
And  then  she  prayed  that  her  Father  in  Heaven  would  give 
her  strength.  And  after  a time  she  was  calm  again,  and  went 


4.>vj  the  squire  attacked  with  a mining  fever. 

to  her  bureau  drawer  and  took  from  a hiding  place  a little 
piece  of  paper,  yellow  with  age.  Upon  it  was  pinned  a four- 
leaved clover,  dry  and  yellow  also.  She  looked  long  at  this 
foolish  memento.  Under  the  clover  leaf  was  written  in  a 
ischool-girFs  hand — Philip^  June^  186 — 

Squire  Montague  thought  very  well  of  Philip’s  proposal. 
It  would  have  been  better  if  he  had  begun  the  study  of  the  law 
as  soon  as  he  left  college,  but  it  was  not  too  late  now,  and 
besides  he  had  gathered  some  knowledge  of  the  world. 

“ But,”  asked  the  Squire,  “ do  you  mean  to  abandon  your 
land  in  Pennsylvania  This  track  of  land  seemed  an  im- 


HOW  ilE  WAS  DRAWN  IN. 


mense  possible  fortune  to  this  New  England  lawyer-farmer. 

Hasn’t  it  good  timber,  and  doesn’t  the  railroad  almost  touch 
it  ?” 

I can’t  do  anything  with  it  now.  Perhaps  I can  some- 
time.” 

What  is  vour  reason  for  supposing  that  there  is  coal 
there  ?” 


HE  ENTERS  INTO  THE  SPECULATION. 


461' 


The  opinion  of  the  best  geologist  I could  consult,  my 
own  observation  of  the  country,  and  the  little  veins  of  it  we 
found.  I feel  certain  it  is  there.  I shall  hnd  it  some  day.  I 
know  it.  If  I can  only  keep  the  land  till  I make  money 
enough  to  try  again.” 

Philip  took  from  his  pocket  a map  of  the  anthracite  coal 
region,  and  pointed  out  the  position  of  the  Ihum  mountain 
which  he  had  begun  to  tunnel. 

‘‘  Doesn’t  it  look  like  it  ?” 

“ It  certainly  does,”  said  the  Squire,  very  much  interested. 
It  is  not  unusual  for  a quiet  country  gentleman  to  be  more 
taken  with  such  a venture  than  a speculator  who  has  had  more 
experience  in  its  uncertainty.  It  was  astonisliing  how  many 
Xew  England  clergymen,  in  the  time  of  the  petroleum  excite- 
ment, took  chances  in  oil.  The  Wall  street  brokers  are  said 
to  do  a good  deal  of  small  business  for  country  clergymen,, 
who  are  moved  no  doubt  with  the  laudable  desire  of  purifying; 
the  New  York  stock  board. 

I don’t  see  that  there  is  much  risk,”  said  the  Squire,  at 
length.  ‘‘  The  timber  is  worth  more  than  the  mortgage  ; and 
if  that  coal  seam  does  run  there,  it’s  a magnificent  fortune.^ 
Would  you  like  to  try  it  again  in  the  spring,  Phil?” 

Like  to  try  it ! If  he  could  have  a little  help,  he  would 
work  himself,  with  pick  and  barrow,  and  live  on  a crusL 
Only  give  him  one  more  chance. 

And  this  is  how  it  came  about  that  the  cautious  old  Squire 
Montague  was  drawn  into,  this  young  fellow’s  speculation,  and 
began  to  have  his  serene  old  age  disturbed  by  anxieties  and 
by  the  hope  of  a great  stroke  of  luck. 

‘‘  To  be  sure,  I only  care  about  it  for  the  boy,”  he  said. 
The  Squire  was  like  everybody  else ; sooner  or  later  he  must 
‘‘  take  a chance.” 

It  is  probably  on  account  of  the  lack  of  enterprise  in 
women  that  they  are  not  so  fond  of  stock  speculations  and 
mine  ventures  as  men.  It  is  only  when  woman  becomes 
demoralized  that  she  takes  to  any  sort  of  gambling.  Neither 


462 


PHILIP  VISITS  RUTH. 


Alice  nor  Ruth  were  much  elated  with  the  prospect*of  Philip’s 
renewal  of  his  mining  enterprise. 

But  Philip  was  exultant.  He  wrote  to  Ruth  as  if  his  for- 
tune were  already  made,  and  as  if  the  clouds  that  lowered 
over  the  house  of  Bolton  were  already  in  the  deep  bosom  of 
a coal  mine  buried.  Towards  spring  he  went  to  Philadelphia 
with  his  plans  all  matured  for  a new  campaign.  His  enthu- 
siasm was  irresistible. 

“ Philip  has  come,  Philip  has  come,”  cried  the  children,  as 
if  some  great  good  had  again  come  into  the  household  ; and  the 
refrain  even  sang  itself  over  in  Ruth’s  heart  as  she  went  the 
weary  hospital  rounds.  Mr.  Bolton  felt  more  courage  than 
lie  had  had  in  months,  at  the  sight  of  his  manly  face  and  the 
sound  of  his  cheery  voice. 

Ruth’s  course  was  vindicated  now,  and  it  certainly  did  not 
become  Philip,  who  had  nothing  to  offer  but  a future  chance 
against  the  visible  result  of  her  determination  and  industry, 
to  open  an  argument  with  her.  Ruth  was  never  more  certain 
that  she  was  right  and  that  she  was  sufficient  unto  herself. 
She,  may  be,  did  not  much  heed  the  still  small  voice  that 
sang  in  her  maiden  heart  as  she  went  about  her  work,  and 
which  lightened  it  and  made  it  easy,  Philip  has  come.” 

“ I am  glad  for  father’s  sake,”  she  said  to  Philip, 
“ that  thee  has  come.  I can  see  that  he  depends  greatly  upon 
what  thee  can  do.  He  thinks  women  won’t  hold  out  long,” 
added  Ruth  with  the  smile  that  Philip  never  exactly  under- 
stood. 

And  aren’t  you  tired  sometimes’  of  the  struggle  ? ” 

“Tired?  Yes,  everybody  is  tired  I suppose.  But  it  is  a 
glorious  profession.  And  would  you  want  me  to  be  depend- 
ent, Philip  ? ” 

“Well,  yes,  a little,”  said  Philip,  feeling  his  way  towards 
what  he  wanted  to  say. 

“ On  what,  for  instance,  just  now  ? ” asked  Ruth,  a little 
maliciously  Philip  thought. 

“ Why,  on — ” he  couldn’t  quite  say  it,  for  it  occurred  to 


LOVE  FOR  LOVE. 


463 


him  that  he  was  a poor  stick  for  any  body  to  lean  on  in  the 
present  state  of  his  fortune,  and  that  the  woman  before  him 
was  at  least  as  independent  as  he  was. 

“I  don’t  mean  depend,”  he  began  again.  “But  I love  you, 
that’s  all.  Am  I nothing  to  you?”  And  Philip  looked  a 
little  defiant,  and  as  if  he  had  said  something  that  ought  to 
brush  awny  all  the  sophistries  of  obligation  on  either  side, 
between  man  and  woman. 

Perhaps  Ruth  saw  this.  Perhaps  she  saw  that  her  own 
theories  of  a certain  equality  of  power,  which  ought  to  pre- 
cede a union  of  two  hearts,  might  be  pushed  too  far.  Per- 
haps she  had  felt  sometimes  her  own  weakness  and  the  need 
after  all  of  so  dear  a sympathy  and  so  tender  an  interest  con- 
fessed, as  that  which  Philip  could  give.  Whatever  moved 


everything; 


her — the  riddle  is  as  old  as  creation — she  simply  looked  up  to 
Philip  and  said  in  a low  voice, 

“ Everything.” 

And  Philip  clasping  both  her  hands  in  his,  and  looking 


464 


PHILIP  HAS  COME, 


down  into  her  eyes,  which  drank  in  all  his  tenderness  with 
the  thirst  of  a true  woman’s  nature — 

Oh  ! Philip,  come  out  here,”  shouted  young  Eli,  throw- 
ing the  door  wide  open. 

And  Puth  escaped  away  to  her  room,  her  heart  singing 
again,  and  now  as  if  it  would  burst  for  joy,  ‘‘  Philip  has 
come.” 

That  night  Philip  received  a dispatch  from  Harry — “ The 
trial  begins  to-morrow.” 


CHAPTER  LI. 

Mpethie  on  sagar  lou  nga  thia  gawantou  kone  yoboul  gouba. 

Wolof  Proverb. 

‘‘Mitsoda  eb  volna  a’  te  szolgdd,  bogy  illyen  nagy  dolgot  tselekednek?” 

Kirdlyok  II.  K.  8.  13. 

^ 0 

December,  is — , found  Washington  Hawkins  and 
Col.  Sellers  once  more  at  the  capitol  of  the  nation, 
standing  guard  over  the  University  bill.  The  former  gentle- 
man was  despondent,  the  latter  hopeful.  Washington’s  dis- 
tress of  mind  was  chiefly  on  Laura’s  account.  The  court 
would  soon  sit  to  try  her  case,  he  said,  and  consequently  a 
great  deal  of  ready  money  would  be  needed  in  the  engineer- 
ing of  it.  The  University  bill  was  sure  to  pass,  this  time, 
and  that  would  make  money  plenty,  but  might  not  the  help 
come  too  late  ? Congress  had  only  just  assembled,  and  delays 
were  to  be  feared. 

“Well,”  said  the  Colonel,  “ I don’t  know  but  you  are  more 
or  less  right,  there.  How  let’s  figure  up  a little  on  the  pre- 
liminaries. I think  Congress  always  tries  to  do  as  near  right 
as  it  can,  according  to  its  lights.  A man  can’t  ask  any  fairer 
than  that.  The  first  preliminary  it  always  starts  out  on,  is 
to  clean  itself,  so  to  speak.  It  will  arraign  two  or  three  dozen 
of  its  members,  or  maybe  four  or  five  dozen,  for  taking  bribes 
to  vote  for  this  and  that  and  the  other  bill  last  winter.” 

“ It  goes  up  into  the  dozens,  does  it  ? ” 

“Well,  yes;  in  a free  country  like  ours,  where  any  man 
30-  465 


466 


HOW  CONGKESS  CLEANS  ITSELF. 


can  run  for  Congress  and  anybody  can  vote  for  him,  you 
can’t  expect  immortal  purity  all  the  time — it  ain’t  in  nature. 
— Sixty  or  eighty  or  a hundred  and  fifty  people  are  bound  to 
get  in  who  are  not  angels  in  disguise,  as  young  Hicks  the 
correspondent  says  ; but  still  it  is  a very  good  average ; very 
good  indeed.  As  long  as  it  averages  as  well  as  that,  I think 
we  can  feel  very  well  satisfied.  Even  in  these  days,  when 
people  growl  so  much  and  the  newspapers  are  so  out  of 
patience,  there  is  still  a very  respectable  minority  of  honest 
men  in  Congress.” 

“ Why  a respectable  minority  of  honest  men  can’t  do  any 
good,  Colonel.” 

“ Oh,  yes  it  can,  too.” 

“ Why,  how  % ” 

“ Ob,  in  many  ways,  many  ways.” 

“ But  what  are  the  ways  ? ” 

“Well — I don’t  know — it  is  a question  that  requires  time  ; 
a body  can’t  answer  every  question  right  oflT-hand.  But  it 
does  do  good.  I am  satisfied  of  that.” 

“ All  right,  then ; grant  that  it  does  good  ; go  on  with  the 
preliminaries.” 

“ That  is  what  I am  corning  to.  First,  as  I said,  they  will 
try  a lot  of  members  for  taking  money  for  votes.  That 
will  take  four  wer^ks.” 

“ Yes,  that’s  like  last  year ; and  it  is  a sheer  waste  of  the 
time  for  which  the  nation  pays  those  men  to  worh — that  is 
vdiat  that  is.  And  it  pinches  when  a body’s  got  a bill  wait' 
ing.” 

“A  waste  of  time,  to  purify  the  fountain  of  public  law  \ 
Wed,  I never  heard  anybody  express  an  idea  like  that  before. 
But  if  it  were,  it  would  still  be  the  fault  of  the  minority, 
'for  the  majority  don’t  institute  these  proceedings.  There  is 
wdiere  that  minority  becomes  an  obstruction — but  still  one 
can’t  say  it  is  on  the  wrong  side.— Well,  after  they  have  fin- 
ished the  bribery  cases,  they  will  take  up  cases  of  members 
who  hav'  bought  their  seats  with  money.  That  will  take 
another  four  weeks.” 


A GOOD  MODAL  EFFECT  PRODUCED.  467 

^‘Yerygood;  goon.  You  have  accounted  for  two-thirds 
of  the  session.” 

Yext  they  will  try  each  other  for  various  smaller  irregu- 
larities, like  the  sale  of  appointments  to  West  Point  cadet- 
ships, and  that  sort  of  thing — mere  trifling  pocket-money  en- 
terprises that  miglit  better  be  passed  over  in  silence,  perhaps, 
but  then  one  of  oiir  Congresses  can  never  rest  easy  till  it  has 
thoroughly  purified  itself  of  all  blemishes — and  that  is  a thing 
to  be  applauded.” 

Ilow  long  does  it  take  to  disinfect  itself  of  these  minor 
impurities?  ” 

“ Well,  about  two  weeks,  generally.” 

So  Congress  always  lies  helpless  in  quarantine  ten  weeks 
of  a session.  That’s  encouraging.  Colonel,  poor  Laura  will 
never  get  any  benefit  from  our  bill.  Her  trial  will  be  over 
before  Congress  has  half  purified  itself. — And  doesn’t  it  occur 
to  you  that  by  the  time  it  has  expelled  all  its  impure  mem- 
bers there  may  not  be  enough  members  left  to  do  business 
legally  ? ” 

‘‘Why  I did  not  say  Congress  would  expel  anybody.” 

“ Well  wonH  it  expel  anybody  ? ” 

“ Yot  necessarily.  Did  it  last  year?  It  never  does.  That 
would  not  be  regular.” 

“ Then  why  waste  all  the  session  in  that  tomfoolery  of  try- 
ing members?” 

“ It  is  usual ; it  is  customary  ; the  country  requires  it.” 

“Then  the  country  is  a fool,  / think.” 

“ Oh,  no.  The  country  thinks  somebody  is  going  to  be  ex- 
pelled.” 

“Well,  when  nobody  expelled,  what  does  the  country 
think  then  ? ” 

“ By  that  time,  the  thing  has  strung  out  so  long  that  the 
country  is  sick  and  tired  of  it  and  glad  to  have  a change  on 
any  terms.  But  all  that  inquiry  is  not  lost.  It  has  a good 
moral  effect.” 

“ Who  does  it  have  a good  moral  effect  on  ?” 

^‘Well — I don’t  know.  On  foreign  countries,  I think. 


468 


HOW  A TRIAL  IS  CONDUCTED. 


We  have  always  been  under  the  gaze  of  foreign  countries^ 
There  is  no  country  in  the  world,  sir,  that  pursues  corruption 
as  inveterately  as  we  do.  There  is  no  country  in  the  world 
whose  representatives  try  each  other  as  much  as  ours  do,  or 
stick  to  it  as  long  on  a stretch.  I think  there  is  something 
great  in  being  a model  for  the  whole  civilized  world,  Wash- 
ington.” 

‘‘  You  don’t  mean  a model ; you  mean  an  example.” 

‘‘Well,  it’s  all  the  same ; it’s  just  the  same  thing.  It  shows 
that  a man  can’t  be  corrupt  in  this  country  without  sweating 
for  it,  I can  tell  you  that.” 

“Hang  it,  Colonel,  you  just  said  we  never  punish  anybody 
for  villainous  practices.” 

“ But  good  God  we  try  them,  don’t  we ! Is  it  nothing  to 
show  a disposition  to  sift  things  and  bring  people  to  a strict 
account  ? I tell  you  it  has  its  effect.” 

“ Oh,  bother  the  effect ! — What  is  it  they  do  do  ? How  do 
they  proceed?  You  know  perfectly  well — and  it  is  all  boshy 
too.  Come,  now,  how  do  they  proceed  ?” 

“ Why  they  proceed  right  and  regular — and  it  ain’t  bosh, 
Washington,  it  ain’t  bosh.  They  appoint  a committee  to 
investigate,  and  that  committee  hears  evidence  three  weeks, 
and  all  the  witnesses  on  one  side  swear  that  the  accused  took 
money  or  stock  or  something  for  his  vote.  Then  the  accused 
stands  up  and  testifies  that  he  may  have  done  it,  but  he  was 
receiving  and  handling  a good  deal  of  money  at  the  time  and 
he  doesn’t  remember  this  particular  circumstance — at  least  with 
sufficient  distinctness  to  enable  him  to  grasp  it  tangibly.  So 
of  course  the  thing  is  not  proven — and  that  is  what  they  say 
in  the  verdict.  They  don’t  acquit,  they  don’t  condemn. 
They  just  say,  ‘ Charge  not  proven.’  It  leaves  the  accused 
in  a kind  of  a shaky  condition  before  the  country,  it  purifies 
Congress,  it  satisfies  everybody,  and  it  doesn’t  seriously  hurt 
anybody.  It  has  taken  a long  time  to  perfect  our  system, 
but  it  is  the  most  admirable  in  the  world,  now.” 

“ So  one  of  those  long  stupid  investigations  always  turns 
out  in  that  lame  silly  way.  Yes,  you  are  correct.  I thought 


CONGRESS  CRUELLY  VINDICTIVE. 


469 


mayl)e  yon  viewed  the  matter  differently  from  other  people. 
Do  you  think  a Congress  of  ours  could  convict  the  devil  of 
anything  if  he  v^ere  a member !” 

“My  dear  boy,  don’t  let  these  damaging  delays  prejudice 
you  against  Congress.  Don’t  use  such  strong  language  ; you 
talk  like  a newspaper.  Congress  has  inflicted  frightful  pun- 
ishments on  its  members — now  you  know  that.  When  they 
tried  Mr.  Fairoaks,  and  a cloud  of  witnesses  proved  him  to  be 
- — well,  you  know  what  they  proved  him  to  be — and  his  own 
testimony  and  his  own  confessions  gave  him  the  same  charac- 
ter, what  did  Congress  do  then  ? — come  !” 

“ Well,  what  did  Congress  do  ?” 

“You  know  what  Congress  did,  Washington.  Congress 
intimated  plainly  enough,  that  they  considered  him  almost  a 
stain  upon  their  body ; and  without  waiting  ten  days,  hardly, 
to  think  the  thing  over,  they  rose  up  and  hurled  at  him  a res- 
olution declaring  that  they  disapproved  of  his  conduct ! Now 
you  know  that,  Washington.” 

“ It  was  a terriflc  thing — there  is  no  denying  that.  If  he 
had  been  proven  guilty  of  theft,  arson,  licentiousness,  infanti- 
cide, and  defiling  graves,  I beiieve  they  would  have  suspended 
him  for  two  days.” 

“ You  can  depend  on  it,  Washington.  Congress  is  vindic- 
tive, Congress  is  savage,  sir,  when  it  gets  waked  up  once.  It 
will  go  to  any  length  to  vindicate  its  honor  at  such  a time.” 

“ Ah  well,  we  liave  talked  the  morning  through,  just  as 
usual  in  these  tiresome  days  of  waiting,  and  we  have  reached 
the  same  old  result ; that  is  to  say,  we  are  no  better  off  than 
when  we  began.  The  land  bill  is  just  as  far  away  as  ever, 
and  the  trial  is  closer  at  hand.  Let’s  give  up  everything  and 
die.” 

“ Die  and  leave  the  Duchess  to  fight  it  out  all  alone  ? Oh, 
no,  that  won’t  do.  Come,  now,  don’t  talk  so.  It  is  all  going 
to  come  out  right.  Now  you’ll  see.’ 

“ It  never  will.  Colonel,  never  in  the  world.  Something 
tells  me  that.  I get  more  tired  and  more  despondent  every 


470 


COL.  SELLERS  COMFORTS  WASIIINGTOX. 


day.  I don’t  see  any  hope;  life  is  only  just  a trouble.  I am 
so  miserable  these  days!  ” 

The  Colonel  made  Washington  get  up  and  walk  the  floor 
with  him,  arm  in  arm.  The  good  old  speculator  wanted  to 
comfort  him,  but  he  hardly  knew  how  to  go  about  it.  He 
made  many  attempts,  but  they  were  lame ; they  lacked  spirit ; 
the  words  were  encouraging,  but  they  were  only  words — he 
could  not  get  any  heart  into  them.  He  could  not  always 
warm  up,  now,  with  the  old  Hawkeye  fervor.  By  and  by 
his  lips  trembled  and  his  voice  got  unsteady.  He  said  : 

“ Don’t  give  up  the  ship,  luy  boy — don’t  do  it.  The 
wind’s  bound  to  fetch  around  and  set  in  our  favor.  I know  it.’^ 


“come  now  let’s  cheer  CP.” 


And  the  prospect  ’was  so  cheerful  that  he  wept.  Then  he 
blew  a trumpet-blast  that  started  the  meshes  of  his  handier- 
chief,  and  said  in  almost  his  breezy  old-time  way  : 

‘‘  Lord  bless  us,  this  is  all  nonsense ! Night  c!.oesn’t  last 
always;  day  has  got  to  break  some  time  or /jther.  Every 
silver  lining  has  a cloud  behind  it,  as  the  poet^  gays ; and  that 

/ 

f 


THE  COLONEL’S  LUCK  AGAIN. 


471 


remark  has  always  cheered  me,  though  I never  could  see  any 
meaning  to  it.  Everybody  uses  it,  though,  and  everybody 
gets  comfort  out  of  it.  I wish  they  would  start  something 
fresh.  Come,  now,  let’s  cheer  up ; there’s  been  as  good  fish 
in  the  sea  as  there  are  now.  It  shall  never  be  said  that  Beriah 
Sellers — . Come  in  ? ” 

It  was  the  telegraph  boy.  The  Colonel  reached  for  the 
message  and  devoured  its  contents. 

‘^I  said  it!  Never  give  up  the  ship!  The  trial’s  post- 
poned till  February,  and  we’ll  save  the  child  yet.  Bless  my 
life,  what  lawyers  they  have  in  New  York ! Give  them 
money  to  tight  with,  and  the  ghost  of  an  excuse,  and  they 
would  manage  to  postpone  anything  in  this  world,  unless  it 
might  be  the  millennium  or  something  like  that.  Now  for 
work  again,  my  boy.  The  trial  will  last  to  the  middle  of 
March,  sure ; Congress  ends  the  fourth  of  March.  Within 
three  days  of  the  end  of  the  session  they  will  be  done  putting 
through  the  preliminaries,  and  then  they  will  be  ready  for 
national  business.  Our  bill  will  go  through  in  forty-eight 
hours,  then,  and  we’ll  telegraph  a million  dollars  to  the  jury 
— to  the  lawyers,  I mean — and  the  verdict  of  the  jury  will  be 
‘ Accidental  murder  resulting  from  justiliable  insanity  ’ — or 
something  to  that  effect,  something  to  that  effect.  Every- 
thing is  dead  sure,  now.  Come,  what  is  the  matter?  What 
are  you  wilting  down  like  that,  for?  You  mustn’t  be  a 
girl,  you  know.” 

Oh,  Colonel,  I am  become  so  used  to  troubles,  so  used  to 
failures,  disappointments,  hard  luck  of  all  kinds,  that  a little 
good  news  breaks  me  right  down.  Everything  has  been  so 
hopeless  that  now  I can’t  stand  good  news  at  all.  It  is  too 
good  to  be  true,  anyway.  Don’t  you  see  how  our  bad  luck 
has  worked  on  me?  My  hair  is  getting  gray,  and  many 
nights  I don’t  sleep  at  all.  I wish  it  was  all  over  and  we 
could  rest.  I wish  we  could  lie  down  and  just  forget  every- 
thing, and  let  it  all  be  just  a dream  that  is  done  and  can’t 
come  back  to  trouble  us  any  more.  I am  so  tired.” 

“ Ah,  poor  child,  don’t  talk  like  that — cheer  up — there’s 


472 


A DOUBTFUL  COMPLIMENT. 


daylight  ahead.  Don’t  give  up.  You’ll  have  Laura  again, 
and  Louise,  and  your  mother,  and  oceans  and  oceans  of 
money — and  then  you  can  go  away,  ever  so  far  away  some- 
where, if  you  want  to,  and  forget  all  about  this  infernal 
place.  And  by  George  I’ll  go  with  you  ! I’ll  go  with  you 
— now  there’s  my  word  on  it.  Cheer  up.  I’ll  run  out  and 
tell  the  friends  the  news.” 

And  he  wrung  Washington’s  hand  and  was  about  to  hurry 
away  when  his  companion,  in  a burst  of  grateful  admiration 
said : 

I think  you  are  the  best  soul  and  the  noblest  I ever  knew, 
Colonel  Sellers  ! and  if  the  people  only  knew  you  as  I do, 
you  would  not  be  tagging  around  here  a nameless  man — you 
would  be  in  Congress.” 

The  gladness  died  out  of  the  Colonel’s  face,  and  he  laid  his 
hand  upon  Washington’s  shoulder  and  said  gravely ; 

I have  always  been  a friend  of  your  family,  Washington, 
and  I think  I have  always  tried  to  do  right  as  between  man 
and  man,  according  to  my  lights.  ^low  I don’t  think  there 
has  ever  been  anything  in  my  conduct  that  should  make  you 
feel  justified  in  saying  a thing  like  that.” 

He  turned,  then,  and  walked  slowly  out,  leaving  Washing- 
ton abashed  and  somewhat  bewildered.  When  Washington 
had  presently  got  his  thoughts  into  line  again,  he  said  to  him- 
self, “ Why,  honestly,  I only  meant  to  compliment  him — in- 
deed I would  not  have  hurt  him  for  the  world.” 


CHAPTER  LII. 


Aucune  chose  a.,  monde  etplus  noble  et  plus  belle 
Que  la  sainte  ferveur  d’un  veritable  zele. 

Le  Tartuffe,  a.  1,  sc.  6. 

With  faire  discourse  the  evening  so  they  pas ; 

For  that  olde  man  of  pleasing  wordes  had  store, 

And  well  could  file  his  tongue,  as  smooth  as  glas — 

Faerie  Queene^ 

——11  prit  un  air  benin  et  tendre, 

D’un  Laudate  Deum  lour  preta  le  bon  jour. 

Puis  convia  le  monde  au  fraternal  amour! 

Roman  du  Renard  {Prologue), 

The  weeks  drifted  by  monotonously  enough,  now.  The 
‘‘preliminaries”  continued  to  drag  along  in  Congress, 
and  life  was  a dull  suspense  to  Sellers  and  Washington,  a 
weary  waiting  which  might  have  broken  their  hearts,  maybe, 
but  for  the  relieving  change  w'liich  they  got  out  of  an  occa- 
sional visit  to  New  York  to  see  Laura.  Standing  guard  in 
Washington  or  anywhere  else  is  not  an  exciting  business  in 
time  of  peace,  but  standing  guard  was  all  that  the  two  friends 
had  to  do  ; all  that  was  needed  of  them  was  that  they  should 
be  on  hand  and  ready  for  any  emergency  that  might  come  up. 
Tliere  was  no  work  to  do  ; that  was  all  finished  ; this  was  but 
the  second  session  of  the  last  winter’s  Congress,  and  its  action 
on  the  bill  could  have  but  one  result — its  passage.  The 
House  must  do  its  work  over  again,  of  course,  but  tlie  same 
wienibership  w^as  there  to  see  that  it  did  it. — The  Senate  w^as 
secure — Senator  Dilworthy  was  able  to  put  all  doubts  to  rest 
on  that  head.  Indeed  it  was  no  secret  in  Washington  that  a 
two-thirds  vote  in  the  Senate  was  ready  and  waiting  to  be 

473 


i74  WASHINGTON  ADOPTS  A HUMBLE  DEPORTMENT. 


cast  for  the  University  hill  as  soon  as  it  should  come  before 
that  body. 

Washington  did  not  take  part  in  the  gaieties  of  the  sea- 
son,” as  he  had  done  the  previous  winter.  He  had  lost  his 
interest  in  such  things ; he  was  oppressed  with  cares,  now. 
Senator  Dilworthy  said  to  Washington  that  an  humble  deport- 
luent,  under  punishment,  W’as  best,  and  that  there  was  but 
one  way  in  which  the  troubled  heart  might  find  perfect 
repose  and  peace.  The  suggestion  found  a response  in 
Wasliiimton’s  breast,  and  the  Senator  saw  the  smn  of  it  in 
his  face. 

From  that  moment  one  could  find  the  youth  with  the  Sen- 
ator even  oftener  than  wuth  Col.  Sellers.  When  the  states- 
nian  presided  at  great  temperance  meetings,  he  placed  Wash- 


A SHINING  EXAMPLE, 


ington  in  the  front  rank  of  impressive  dignitaries  that  gave 
tone  to  the  occasion  and  pomp  to  the  platform.  Ilis  bald 
headed  surroundings  made  the  youth  the  more  conspicuous. 


A PEACEFUL  LIOX. 


475 


When  the  statesman  made  remarks  in  these  meetings,  he  not 
infrequently  alluded  with  effect  to  the  encouraging  spectacle 
of  one  of  the  wealthiest  and  most  brilliant  young  favorites  of 
society  forsaking  the  light  vanities  of  that  butterfly  existence 
to  nobly  and  self-sacrificingly  devote  his  talents  and  his  riches 
to  the  cause  of  saving  his  hapless  fellow  creatures  from  shame 
and  misery  here  and  eternal  regret  hereafter.  At  the 
prayer  meetings  the  Senator  always  brought  Washington  up 
the  aisle  on  his  arm  and  seated  him  prominently ; in  his 
prayers  he  referred  to  him  in  the  cant  terms  which  the  Sena- 
tor employed,  perhaps  unconsciously,  and  mistook,  maybe,  for 
religion,  and  in  other  ways  brought  him  into  notice.  He  had 
him  out  at  gatherings  for  the  benefit  of  the  negro,  gatherings 
for  the  benefit  of  the  Indian,  gatherings  for  the  benefit  of  the 
heathen  in  distant  lands.  lie  had  him  out  time  and  again, 
before  Sunday  Schools,  as  an  example  for  emulation.  Upon 
all  these  occasions  the  Senator  made  casual  references  to 
many  benevolent  enterprises  which  his  ardent  young  friend 
was  planning  against  the  day  when  the  passage  of  the  Uni- 
versity bill  should  make  his  ample  means  available  for  the 
amelioration  of  the  condition  of  the  unfortunate  among  his 
fellow  men  of  all  nations  and  all  climes.  Thus  as  the  weeks 
rolled  on  Washington  grew  up  into  an  imposing  lion  once 
more,  but  a lion  that  roamed  the  peaceful  fields  of  religion 
and  temperance,  and  revisited  the  glittering  domain  of  fashion 
no  more.  A great  moral  influence  was  thus  brought  to  bear 
in  favor  of  the  bill ; the  weightiest  of  friends  flocked  to  its 
sta'ndard  ; its  most  energetic  enemies  said  it  was  useless  ta 
fight  longer  ; they  had  tacitly  surrendered  while  as  yet  the 
day  of  battle  was  not  come. 


CHAPTER  LIIL 


, — He  seekes,  of  all  his  drifte  the  aymed  end: 

Thereto  his  subtile  engins  he  does  bend, 

His  practick  witt  and  his  fayre  fyled  tongue, 

With  thousand  other  sleightes ; for  well  he  kend 
His  credit  now  in  doubtful  ballaunce  hong : 

For  hardly  could  bee  hurt,  who  was  already  stong. 

Faerie  Queens, 

Selons  divers  besoins,  il  est  une  science 
D’dtendre  les  liens  de  notre  conscience, 

Et  de  rectifier  le  mal  de  I’action 
Avec  la  puretd  de  notre  intention. 

Le  Tartuffe^  a.  4,  sc.  5. 

The  session  was  drawing  toward  its  close.  Senator  Dil- 
worthy  thought  he  would  run  out  west  and  shake  hands 
with  his  constituents  and  let  them  look  at  him.  The  legisla- 
ture whose  duty  it  would  be  to  re-elect  him  to  the  United 
States  Senate,  was  already  in  session.  Mr.  Dilworthy  con- 
sidered his  re-election  certain,  but  he  was  a careful,  pains- 
taking man,  and  if,  by  visiting  his  State  he  could  find  the 
opportunity  to  persuade  a few  more  legislators  to  vote  for 
him,  he  held  the  journey  to  be  well  worth  taking.  The  Uni- 
versity bill  was  safe,  now  ; he  could  leave  it  without  fear ; it 
needed  his  presence  and  his  watching  no  longer.  But  there 
was  a person  in  his  State  legislature  who  did  need  watching 
— a person  who,  Senator  Dilworthy  said,  was  a narrow,  grum- 
bling, uncomfortable  malcontent — a person  who  was  stolidly 
•opposed  to  reform,  and  progress  and  A?'m, — a person  who,  he 
feared,  had  been  bought  with  money  to  combat  him,  and 

476 


PREPAKATIUNS  POR  A RE-ELECTION.  47T 

through  him  the  commonwealth’s  welfare  and  its  political 
purity. 

‘‘  If  this  person  Kohle,”  said  Mr.  Dilworthy,  in  a little 
speech  at  a dinner  party  given  him  by  some  of  his  admirers,. 
“ merely  desired  to  sacrifice  me,  I would  willingly  offer  up 
my  political  life  on  the  altar  of  my  dear  State’s  weal,  I would 
he  glad  and  grateful  to  do  it ; but  when  he  makes  of  me  but 
a cloak  to  hide  his  deeper  designs,  w^hen  he  proposes  to  strike 
through  me  at  the  heart  of  my  beloved  State,  all  the  lion  in 
me  is  roused — and  I say , Here  I stand,  solitary  and  alone,  but* 
unflinching,  unquailing,  thrice  armed  with  my  sacred  trust ; 
and  whoso  passes,  to  do  evil  to  this  fair  domain  that  looks  to- 
me for  protection,  must  do  so  over  my  dead  body.” 

He  further  said  that  if  this  Hoble  were  a pure  man,  and’ 
merely  misguided,  he  could  bear  it,  but  that  he  should  succeed 
in  his  wicked  designs  through  a base  use  of  money  would 
leave  a blot  upon  his  State  which  would  work  untold  evil  to 
the  morals  of  the  people,  and  that  he  would  not  suffer  ; the 
public  morals  must  not  be  contaminated.  He  would  seek  this 
man  Noble ; he  wmuld  argue,  he  would  persuade,  he  would, 
appeal  to  his  honor. 

When  he  arrived  on  the  ground  he  found  his  friends  unter- 
rified ; they  were  standing  firmly  by  him  and  were  full  of 
courage.  Noble  was  working  hard,  too,  but  matters  wero 
against  him,  he  was  not  making  much  progress.  Mr.  Dih 
worthy  took  an  early  opportunity  to  send  for  Mr.  Noble ; 
he  had  a midnight  interview  with  him,  and  urged  him  to  for- 
sake his  evil  ways ; he  begged  him  to  come  again  and  again, 
which  he  did.  He  finally  sent  the  man  away  at  3 o’clock 
one  morning ; and  when  he  was  gone,  Mr.  Dilworthy  said  to 
himself, 

“ I feel  a good  deal  relieved,  now,  a great  deal  relieved.” 

The  Senator  now  turned  his  attention  to  matters  touching 
the  souls  of  his  people.  He  appeared  in  church  ; he  took  a 
leading  part  in  prayer  meetings  ; he  met  and  encouraged  the 
temperance  societies;  he  graced  the  sewing  circles  of  the 


4T8  THE  MEANS  EMPLOYED  BY  SENATOR  DIL WORTHY. 


Bibleless  pagan  of  the  South  Seas,  and  this  act  enchanted 
the  ladies,  who  regarded  the  garments  thus  honored  as  in  a 
manner  sanctified.  The  Senator  wrought  in  Bible  classes, 
-and  nothing  could  keep  him  away  from  the  Sunday  Schools 
— neither  sickness  nor  storms  nor  weariness.  He  even 
traveled  a tedious  thirty  miles  in  a poor  little  rickety  stage- 
coach to  comply  with  the  desire  of  the  miserable  hamlet  of 
Cattleville  that  he  would  let  its  Sunday  School  look  upon 
him. 

All  the  town  was  assembled  at  the  stage  office  when  he  ar- 
rived, two  bonfires  were  burning,  and  a battery  of  anvils  was 
popping  exultant  broadsides;  for  a United  States  Senator 
was  a sort  of  god  in  the  understanding  of  these  people  who 
never  had  seen  any  creature  mightier  than  a county  judge. 
To  them  a United  States  Senator  was  a vast,  vague  colossus, 
an  awe  inspiring  unreality. 


ladies  with  his  presence,  and  even  took  a needle  now  and  then 
■and  made  a stitch  or  two  upon  a calico  shirt  for  some  poor 


THE  SEWING  SOCIETY  DODGE. 


THE  SENATOK  VISITS  A SUNDAY  SCHOOL. 


479 


IS^ext  day  everybody  was  at  tlie  village  cliurcli  a full  half 
hour  befoi’e  time  for  Sunday  Scliool  to  open  ; ranchmen  and 
farmers  bad  come  with  their  families  from  five  miles  around, 
all  eager  to  get  a glimpse  of  the  great  man — the  man  wlio  had 
been  to  Washington ; the  man  who  had  seen  the  President  of 
the  United  States,  and  had  even  talked  with  him  ; the  man 
who  had  seen  the  actual  Washington  ]\ronument — perhaps 
touched  it  with  his  hands. 

When  the  Senator  arrived  the  Church  was  crowded,  the 
windows  were  full,  the  aisles  were  packed,  so  was  the  vestibule, 
and  so  indeed  was  the  yard  in  front  of  the  building.  As  he 
worked  his  way  through  to  the  pulpit  on  the  arm  of  tiie  min- 
ister and  followed  by  the  envied  officials  of  the  village,  every 
neck  was  stretched  and  every  eye  twisted  around  interven- 
ing obstructions  to  get  a glimpse.  Elderly  people  directed 
each  other’s  attention  and  said,  There  ! that’s  him,  with  the 
grand,  noble  forehead  1 ” Boys  nudged  each  other  and  said, 

Ui,  Johnny,  here  he  is  ! There,  that’s  him,  with  the  peeled 
head  ! ” 

The  Senator  took  his  seat  in  the  pulpit,  with  the  minister 
on  one  side  of  him  and  the  Superintendent  of  the  Sunday 
School  on  the  other.  The  town  dignitaries  sat  in  an  impres- 
sive row  within  the  altar  railings  below.  The  Sunday  School 
children  occupied  ten  of  the  front  benches,  dressed  in  their 
best  and  most  uncomfortable  clothes,  and  with  hair  combed 
and  faces  too  clean  to  feel  natural.  So  awed  were  they  by 
the  presence  of  a living  United  States  Senator,  that  during 
three  minutes  not  a ‘‘  spit-ball  ” was  thrown.  After  that 
they  began  to  come  to  themselves  by  degrees,  and  presently 
the  spell  was  wholly  gone  and  they  were  reciting  verses  and 
pulling  hair. 

The  usual  Sunday  School  exercises  were  hurried  through, 
and  then  the  minister  got  up  and  bored  the  house  with  a 
speech  built  on  the  customary  Sunday  School  plan ; then  the 
Superintendent  put  in  his  oar  ; then  the  town  dignitaries  had 
their  aay.  They  all  made  complimentary  reference  to  “their 


480 


HE  ADDRESSES  THE  SCHOLARS. 


friend  the  Senator,”  and  told  what  a great  and  illustrious 
man  he  was  and  what  he  had  done  for  his  country  and  for 
religion  and  temperance,  and  exhorted  the  little  boys  to  be 
good  and  diligent  and  try  to  become  like  him  some  day.  The 
speakers  won  the  deathless  hatred  of  the  house  by  these  de- 
lays, but  at  last  there  was  an  end  and  hope  revived ; inspira- 
tion was  about  to  find  utterance. 

Senator  Dilworthy  rose  and  beamed  upon  the  assemblage 
for  a full  minute  in  silence.  Then  he  smiled  with  an  access 
of  sweetness  upon  the  children  and  began : 

“ My  little  friends — for  I hope  that  all  these  bright-faced 
little  people  are  my  friends  and  will  let  me  be  their  friend — 
my  little  friends,  I have  traveled  much,  I have  been  in  many 
cities  and  many  States,  everywhere  in  our  great  and  noble 
country,  and  by  the  blessing  of  Providence  I have  been  per- 
mitted to  see  many  gatherings  like  this — but  I am  proud,  I 
am  truly  proud  to  say  that  I never  have  looked  upon  so  much 
intelligence,  so  much  grace,  such  sweetness  of  disposition  as 
I see  in  the  charming  young  countenances  I see  before  me  at 
this  moment.  I have  been  asking  myself  as  I sat  here. 
Where  am  I ? Am  I in  some  far-off  monarchy,  looking  upon 
little  princes  and  princesses  ? No.  Am  I in  some  populous 
centre  of  my  own  country,  where  the  choicest  children  of  the 
land  have  been  selected  and  brought  together  as  at  a fair  for 
a prize  ? No.  Am  I in  some  strange  foreign  clime  where 
the  children  are  marvels  that  we  know  not  of  ? No.  Then 
where  am  I?  Yes — where  am  I ? I am  in  a simple,  remote, 
unpretending  settlement  of  my  own  dear  State,  and  these  are 
the  children  of  the  noble  and  virtuous  men  who  have  made  me 
what  I am ! My  soul  is  lost  in  wonder  at  the  thought ! And 
I humbly  thank  Him  to  whom  we  are  but  as  worms  of  the 
dust,  that  Ho  has  been  pleased  to  call  me  to  serve  such  men ! 
Earth  has  no  higher,  no  grander  position  for  me.  Let  kings 
and  emperors  keep  their  tinsel  crowns,  I want  them  not ; my 
heart  is  here ! 

“ Again  I thought.  Is  this  a theatre  ? No.  Is  it  a concert 


SENATOR  DILLWORTHY  ADDRESSING  THE  SUNDAY  SCHOOL 


L ' 


.'•ff 


STORY  OF  A POOR  LITTLE  BOY. 


481 


or  a gilded  opera  ? E’o.  Is  it  some  other  vain,  brilliant, 
beantifal  temple  of  soul-staining  amusement  and  hilarity? 
No.  Then  what  is  it?  What  did  my  consciousness  reply? 
I ask  you,  my  little  friends.  What  did  my  consciousness  reply  ? 
It  replied.  It  is  the  temple  of  the  Lord  ! Ah,  think  of  that, 
now.  I could  hardly  keep  the  tears  back,  I was  so  grateful 
Oh,  how  beautiful  it  is  to  see  these  ranks  of  sunny  little  faces 
assembled  here  to  learn  the  way  of  life  ; to  learn  to  be  good ; 
to  learn  to  be  useful ; to  learn  to  be  pious ; to  learn  to  be 
great  and  glorious  men  and  women ; to  learn  to  be  props  and 
pillars  of  the  State  and  shining  lights  in  the  councils  and  the 
households  of  the  nation ; to  be  bearers  of  the  banner  and 
soldiers  of  the  cross  in  the  rude  campaigns  of  life,  and  ra:  - 
somed  souls  in  the  happy  fields  of  Paradise  hereafter. 

Children,.honor  your  parents  and  be  grateful  to  them  for 
providing  for  you  the  precious  privileges  of  a Sunday  School. 

‘^Now  my  dear  little  friends,  sit  up  straight  and  pretty — 
there,  that’s  it — and  give  me  your  attention  and  let  me  tell 
you  about  a poor  little  Sunday  School  scholar  I once  knew. — 
He  lived  in  the  far  west,  and  his  parents  were  poor.  They 
could  not  give  him  a costly  education,  but  they  were  good 
and  wise  and  they  sent  him  to  the  Sunday  School.  He  loved 
the  Sunday  School.  I hope  you  love  your  Sunday  School — 
ah,  I see  by  your  faces  that  you  do ! That  is  righto 

W ell,  this  poor  little  boy  was  always  in  his  place  when 
the  bell  rang,  and  he  always  knew  his  lesson  ; for  his  teachers 
wanted  him  to  learn  and  he  loved  his  teachers  dearly.  Al- 
ways love  your  teachers,  my  children,  for  they  love  you  more 
than  you  can  know,  now.  He  would  not  let  bad  boys  per- 
suade him  to  go  to  play  on  Sunday.  There  was  one  little 
bad  boy  who  was  always  trying  to  persuade  him,  but  he  never 
could. 

“ So  this  poor  little  boy  grew  up  to  be  a man,  and  had  to 
go  out  in  the  world,  far  from  home  and  friends  to  earn  his 
living.  Temptations  lay  all  about  him,  and  sometimes  he 
was  about  to  yield,  but  he  would  think  of  some  precious  lesson 
31- 


482  THE  LITTLE  BOY  GLOWS  UP  INTO  SENATOR  DILWORTHY. 

he  learned  in  his  Sunday  School  a long  time  ago,  and 
that  would  save  him.  By  and  by  he  was  elected  to  the  leg- 
islature-  Then  he  did  everything  he  could  for  Sunday 
Schools.  He  got  laws  passed  for  them ; he  got  Sunday 
Schools  established  wherever  he  could. 

And  by  and  by  the  people  made  him  governor — and  he 
said  it  was  all  owing  to  the  Sunday  School. 

‘‘  After  a while  the  people  elected  him  a Bepresentative 
to  the  Congress  of  the  United  States,  and  he  grew  very 
famous. — How  temptations  assailed  him  on  every  hand. 
People  tried  to  get  him  to  drink  wine,  to  dance,  to  go  to  the- 
atres ; they  even  tried  to  buy  his  vote ; but  no,  the  memory 
of  his  Sunday  School  saved  him  from  all  harm ; he  remem- 
bered the  fate  of  the  bad  little  boy  who  used  to  try  to  get 
him  to  play  on  Sunday,  and  who  grew  up  and  became  a 
drunkard  and  was  hanged.  He  remembered  that,  and  was 
glad  he  never  yielded  and  played  on  Sunday. 

“Well,  at  last,  what  do  you  think  happened?  Why  the 
people  gave  him  a towering,  illustrious  position,  a grand,  im- 
posing position.  And  what  do  you  think  it  was?  What 
should  you  say  .it  was,  children  ? It  was  Senator  of  the 
United  States ! That  poor  little  boy  that  loved  his  Sunday 
School  became  that  man.  That  man  stands  before  you  ! All 
that  he  is,  he  owes  to  the  Sunday  School. 

“ My  precious  children,  love  your  parents,  love  your  teach- 
ers, love  your  Sunday  School,  be  pious,  be  obedient,  be  hon- 
est, be  diligent,  and  then  you  will  succeed  in  life  and  be 
honored  of  all  men.  Above  all  things,  my  children,  be  hon- 
est. Above  all  things  be  pure-minded  as  the  snow.  Let*  us 
join  in  prayer.” 

When  Senator  Dilworthy  departed  from  Cattleville,  he 
left  three  dozen  boys  behind  him  arranging  a campaign  of 
life  whose  objective  point  was  the  United  States  Senate. 

When  he  arrived  at  the  State  capital  at  midnight  Mr. 
Hoble  came  and  held  a three-hours’  conference  with  him,  and 
then  as  he  was  about  leaving  said : 


EVERYTHING  SATISFACTORY  AND  PLEASANT.  483 

worked  hard,  and  I’ve  got  them  at  last.  Six  of 
them  haven’t  got  quite  back-bone  enough  to  slew  around  and 
come  right  out  for  you  on  the  first  ballot  to-morrow,  but 
they’re  going  to  vote  against  you  on  the  first  for  the  sake  of 
appearances,  and  then  come  out  for  you  all  in  a body  on  the 
second — I’ve  fixed  all  that ! By  supper  time  to-morrow 
you’ll  be  re-elected.  You  can  go  to  bed  and  sleep  easy  on 


that.” 


After  Mr.  Noble  was  gone,  the  Senator  said: 

“ W ell,  to  bring  about  a complexion  of  things  like  this  was 
worth  coming  W est  for.” 


CHAPTEE  LIV. 


'S’grfeiV  =5r 

rnf^l^rt  'S^T^^Wr  fTTr  ' 

Sdrikhya  Kdrikd^  xlvii. 

Ny  byd  ynat  nep  yr  dysc ; yr  adysco  dyn  byth  ny  byd  ynat  ony  byd  doethineb 
yny  callon ; yr  doethet  uytb  uo  dyn  ny  byd  ynat  ony  byd  dysc  gy t ar  doethinab. 

Cyvreithiau  Cymru. 

The  case  of  the  State  of  Hew  York  against  Laura  Haw- 
kins was  finally  set  down  for  trial  on  the  15th  day  of 
February,  less  than  a year  after  the  shooting  of  George 
Selby. 

If  the  public  had  almost  forgotten  the  existence  of  Laura 
and  her  crime,  they  were  reminded  of  all  the  details  of  the 
murder  by  the  newspapers,  which  for  some  days  had  been 
announcing  the  approaching  trial.  But  they  had  not  forgotten. 
The  sex,  the  age,  the  beauty  of  the  prisoner ; her  high  social 
position  in  Washington,  the  unparalled  calmness  with  which 
the  crime  was  committed  had  all  conspired  to  fix  the  event 
in  the  public  mind,  although  nearly  three  hundred  and  sixty- 
five  subsequent  murders  had  occurred  to  vary  the  monotony 
of  metropolitan  life. 

Ho,  the  public  read  from  time  to  time  of  the  lovely 
prisoner,  languishing  in  the  city  prison,  the  tortured  victim 
of  the  law’s  delay  ; and  as  the  months  went  by  it  was  natura^ 

484 


THE  COURT  ROOM. 


485 


that  the  horror  of  her  crime  should  become  a little  indistinct 
in  memory,  while  the  heroine  of  it  should  be  invested  with  a 
sort  of  sentimental  interest.  Perhaps  her  counsel  had  calculat- 
ed on  this.  Perhaps  it  was  by  their  advice  that  Laura  had  in- 
terested herself  in  the  unfortunate  criminals  who  shared  her 
prison  confinement,  and  had  done  not  a little  to  relieve,  from 
her  own  purse,  the  necessities  of  some  of  the  poor  creatures. 
That  she  had  done  this,  the  public  read  in  tlie  journals  of  the 
day,  and  the  simple  announcement  cast  a softening  light  upon 
her  character. 

The  court  room  was  crowded  at  an  early  hour,  before  the 
arrival  of  judges,  lawyers  and  prisoner.  There  is  no  enjoy- 
ment so  keen  to  certain  minds  as  that  of  looking  upon  the 
slow  torture  of  a human  being  on  trial  for  life,  except  it  be  an 
execution;  there  is  no  display  of  human  ingenuity,  wit 
and  power  so  fascinating  as  that  made  by  trained  lawyers  in 
the  trial  of  an  important  case,  nowhere  else  is  exhibited  such 
subtlety,  acumen,  address,  eloquence. 

All  the  conditions  of  intense  excitement  meet  in  a murder 
trial.  The  awful  issue  at  stake  gives  significance  to  the 
lightest  word  or  look.  How  the  quick  eyes  of  the  spectators 
rove  from  the  stolid  jury  to  the  keen  lawyers,  the  impassive 
judge,  the  anxious  prisoner.  Nothing  is  lost  of  the  sharp 
wrangle  of  the  counsel  on  points  of  law,  the  measured  de- 
cisions of  the  bench,  the  duels  between  the  attorneys  and  the 
witnesses.  The  crowd  sways  with  the  rise  and  fall  of  the 
shifting  testimony,  in  sympathetic  interest,  and  hangs  upon 
the  dicta  of  the  judge  in  breathless  silence.  It  speedily  takes 
sides  for  or  against  the  accused,  and  recognizes  as  quickly  its  fa- 
vorities  among  the  lawyers.  Nothing  delights  it  more  than 
the  sharp  retort  of  a witness  and  the  discomfiture  of  an  ob- 
noxious attorney.  A joke,  even  if  it  be  a lame  one,  is  no 
where  so  keenly  relished  or  quickly  applauded  as  in  a murder 
trial. 

Within  the  bar  the  young  lawyers  and  the  privileged 
hangers-on  filled  all  the  chairs  except  those  reserved  at  the 
table  for  those  engaged  in  the  case.  Without,  the  throng 


486 


THE  GREAT  MR.  BRAHAM. 


occupied  all  the  seats,  the  window  ledges  and  the  standing^ 
room.  The  atmosphere  was  already  something  horrible.  It 
was  the  peculiar  odor  of  a criminal  court,  as  if  it  were  tainted 
by  the  presence,  in  different  persons,  of  all  the  crimes  that 
men  and  women  can  commit. 

There  was  a little  stir  when  the  Prosecuting  Attorney,  with 
two  assistants,  made  his  way  in,  seated  himself  at  the  table, 
and  spread  his  papers  before  him.  There  was  more  stir  when 
the  counsel  of  the  defense  appeared.  They  were  Mr.  Bra- 
ham,  the  senior,  and  Mr.  Quiggle  and  Mr.  O’Keefe,  the 
juniors. 

Everybody  in  the  court  room  knew  Mr.  Braham,  the  great 
criminal  lawyer,  and  he  was  not  unaware  that  he  was  the  object 
of  all  eyes  as  he  moved  to  his  place,  bowing  to  his  friends  in 
the  bar.  A large  but  rather  spare  man,  with  broad  shoulders^ 
and  a massive  head,  covered  with  chestnut  curls  which  fell 
down  upon  his  coat  collar  and  which  he  had  a habit  of  shak- 
ing as  a lion  is  supposed  to  shake  his  mane.  His  face  was 
clean  shaven,  and  he  had  a wide  mouth  and  rather  small  dark 
eyes,  set  quite  too  near  together.  Mr.  Braham  wore  a brown 
frock  coat  buttoned  across  his  breast,  with  a rose-bud  in  the 
the  upper  button-hole,  and  light  pantaloons.  A diamond 
stud  was  seen  to  flash  from  his  bosom,  and  as  he  seated  him- 
self and  drew  off  his  gloves  a heavy  seal  ring  was  displayed 
upon  his  white  left  hand.  Mr.  Braham  having  seated  him- 
self, deliberately  surveyed  the  entire  house,  made  a remark 
to  one  of  his  assistants,  and  then  taking  an  ivory-handled 
knife  from  his  pocket  began  to  pare  his  finger  nails,  rocking 
his  chair  backwards  and  forwards  slowly. 

A moment  later  Judge  O’Shaunnessy  entered  at  the  rear 
door  and  took  his  seat  in  one  of  the  chairs  behind  the  bench ; 
a gentleman  in  black  broadcloth,  with  sandy  hair,  inclined  to- 
curl,  a round,  reddish  and  rather  jovial  face,  sharp  rather 
than  intellectual,  and  with  a self-sufficient  air.  His  career  had 
nothing  remarkable  in  it.  He  was  descended  from  a long 
line  of  Irish  Kings,  and  he  was  the  first  one  of  them  who* 


A MODEL  JUDGE. 


48T 


had  ever  come  into  his  kingdom — the  kingdom  of  such  being 
the  cit}^  of  New  York.  He  had,  in  fact,  descended  so  far  and 
so  low  that  he  found  himself,  when  a boy,  a sort  of  street 
Arab  in  that  city  ; but  he  had  ambition  and  native  shrewd- 
ness, and  he  speedily  took  to  boot-polishing,  and  news- 
paper hawking,  became  the  office  and  errand  boy  of 
a law  firm,  picked  up  knowledge  enough  to  get 
some  employment  in  police  courts,  was  admitted  to 
the  bar,  became  a rising  young  politician,  went  to  the 
legislature,  and  was  finally  elected  to  the  bench  which  he  now 
honored.  In  this  democatic  country  he  was  obliged  to  con- 
ceal his  royalty  under  a plebeian  aspect.  Judge  O’Shaunnessy 


THE  JUDGE. 


never  had  a lucrative  practice  nor  a large  salary,  but  he  had 
prudently  laid  away  money — believing  that  a dependant 
judge  can  never  be  impartial — and  he  had  lands  and  houses 
to  the  value  of  tliree  or  four  hundred  thousand  dollars.  Had 
he  not  helped  to  build  and  furnish  this  very  Court  House  ? 
Did  he  not  know  that  the  very  “ spittoon  ” which  his  judge- 
‘ffiip  used  cost  the  city  the  sum  of  one  thousand  dollars  ? 

As  soon  as  the  judge  was  seated,  the  court  was  opened, 
with  the  “ oi  yis,  oi  yis  ” of  the  officer  in  his  native  language, 
the  case  called,  and  the  sheriff  was  directed  to  bring  in  the 
prisoner.  In  the  midi^t  of  a profound  hush  Laura  entered, 
leaning  on  the  arm  of  the  officer,  and  was  conducted  to  a seat 


488 


THE  PRISONEK  AND  FRIENDS. 


bj  ber  counsel.  She  was  followed  by  her  mother  and  by 
Washington  Hawkins,  who  were  given  seats  near  her. 

Laura  was  very  pale,  but  this  pallor  heightened  the  lustre 
of  her  large  eyes  and  gave  a touching  sadness  to  her  expres- 
sive face.  She  was  dressed  in  simple  black,  with  exquisite 


LAURA  ON  TRIAL. 


taste,  and  without  an  ornament.  The  thin  lace  vail  which 
partially  covered  her  face  did  not  so  much  conceal  as  heighten 
her  beauty.  She  would  not  have  entered  a drawing  room 
with  more  self-poise,  nor  a church  with  more  haughty  humil- 
ity. There  was  in  her  manner  or  face  neither  shame  nor 
boldness,  and  when  she  took  her  seat  in  full  view  of  half  the 
spectators,  her  eyes  were  downcast.  A murmur  of  admira- 
tion ran  through  the  room.  The  newspaper  reporters  made 


THE  INDICTMENT. 


489 


their  pencils  fly.  Mr.  Braliam  again  swept  his  eyes  over 
the  house  as  if  in  approval.  When  Laura  at  length  raised 
her  eyes  a little,  she  saw  Philip  and  Harry  within  the  bar, 
but  she  gave  no  token  of  recognition. 

The  clerk  then  read  the  indictment,  which  was  in  the  usual 
form.  It  charged  Laura  Hawkins,  in  effect,  with  the  pre- 
meditated murder  of  George  Selby,  by  shooting  liim  with  a 
pistol,  with  a revolver,  shot-gun,  rifle,  repeater,  breech-loader, 
cannon,  six-shooter,  with  a gun,  or  some  other  weapon  ; with 
killing  him  with  a slung-sbot,  a bludgeon,  carving  knife, 
bowie  knife,  pen  knife,  rolling  pin,  car  hook,  dagger,  hair 
pin,  with  a hammer,  with  a screw-driver,  with  a nail,  and  with 
all  other  weapons  and  utensils  whatsoever,  at  the  Southern 
hotel  and  in  all  other  hotels  and  places  wheresoev^er,  on  the 
thirteenth  day  of  March  and  all  other  days  of  the  Christian 
era  whensoever. 

Laura  stood  while  the  long  indictment  was  read,  and 
at  the  end,  in  response  to  the  inquiry  of  the  judge,  she 
said  in  a clear,  low  voice, 

^^Hot  guilty.”  She  sat 
down  and  the  court  pro- 
ceeded to  impannel  a 
jury. 

The  first  man  called 
was  Michael  Lanigan,  sa- 
loon keeper. 

^‘Have  you  formed  or 
expressed  any  opinion  on 
this  case,  and  do  you  know 
any  of  the  parties 

‘‘Hot  any,”  said  Mr. 

Lanigan. 

“ Have  you  any  conscientious  objections  to  capital 
punishment  ? ” 

“ Ho,  sir,  not  to  my  knowledge.” 

Have  you  read  anything  about  this  case  ?” 

To  be  sure,  I read  the  papers,  y’r  Honor.” 


490 


CANDIDATES  EOR  JURYMEN. 


Objected  to  bj  Mr.  Brabam,  for  cause,  and  discharged.- 
Patrick  Coughlin. 

‘‘  What  is  your  business 

“ Well — I haven’t  got  any  particular  business.” 

Haven’t  any  particular 
business,  eh  ? W ell,  what’s 
your  general  business? 
What  do  you  do  for  a 
living?” 

I own  some  terriers^ 

sir.” 

“ Own  some  terriers,  eh  ? 
Keep  a rat  pit  ?” 

“ Gentlemen  comes  there 
to  have  a little  sport.  I 
never  fit  ’em,  sir.” 

‘‘Oh,  I see  — you  are 
PATRICK  COUGHLIN.  probably  the  amusement 

committee  of  the  city  coun- 
cil. Have  you  ever  heard  of  this  case  ? ” 

“Hot  till  this  morning,  sir.” 

“ Can  you  read  ?” 

“Hot  fine  print,  y’r  Honor.” 

The  man  was  about  to  be  sworn,  when  Mr.  Braham  asked, 
“ Could  your  father  read  ?” 

“ The  old  gentleman  was  mighty  handy  at  that,  sir.” 

Mr.  Braham  submitted  that  the  man  was  disqualified 
Judge  thought  not.  Point  argued.  Challenged  peremptorily, 
and  set  aside. 

Ethan  Dobb,  cart-driver. 

“ Can  you  read  ? ” 

“Yes,  but  haven’t  a habit  of  it.” 

“ Have  you  heard  of  this  case  ? ” 

“ I think  so — but  it  might  be  another.  I have  no  opinion 
about  it.” 

Diet.  A.  “Tha — tha — there!  Hold  on  a bit?  Did  any- 
body tell  you  to  say  you  had  no  opinion  about  it  ? ” 


MORE  OF  THEM. 


491 


‘‘N-n-o,  sir.” 

“ Take  care  now,  take  care.  Then  what  suggested  it  to 
you  to  volunteer  that  remark  ?” 

“They’ve  always  asked  that,  when  I was  on  juries.” 

“ All  right,  then.  Have  you  any  conscientious  scruples 
about  capital  punishment  ? ” 

“ Any  which  ? ” 

“Would  you  object  to  finding  a person  guilty  of  murder 
on  evidence  ? ” 

“I  might,  sir,  if  I 
thought  he  wan’t  guilty.” 

The  district  attorney 
thought  he  saw  a point. 

“Would  this  feeling 
rather  incline  you  against 
a capital  conviction  ? ” 

The  juror  said  he  hadn’t 
any  feeling,  and  didn’t 
know  any  of  the  parties. 

Accepted  and  sworn. 

Dennis  Laflin,  laborer. 

Have  neither  formed  nor  expressed  an  opinion.  ^N^ever  had 
heard  of  the  case.  Believed  in  hangin’  for  them  that  de- 
served it.  Could  read  if  it  was  necessary. 

Mr.  Braham  objected.  The  man  was  evidently  bloody 
minded.  Challenged  peremptorily. 

Larry  O’Toole,  contractor.  A showily  dressed  man  of  the 
style  known  as  “ vulgar  genteel,”  had  a sharp  eye  and  a ready 
tongue.  Had  read  the  newspaper  reports  of  the  case,  but 
they  made  no  impression  on  him.  Should  be  governed  by 
the  evidence.  Knew  no  reason  why  he  could  not  be  an  im- 
partial juror. 

Question  by  District  Attorney. 

“How  is  it  that  the  reports  made  no  impression  on 
you  ? ” 

“Never  believe  anything  I see  in  the  newspapers.’^’ 


ETHAN  DOBB. 


492 


xi  GOOD  ONE  REFUSED. 


{Langliter  from  the  crowd,  approving  smiles  from  his  Honor 
and  Mr.  Braham.)  Juror  sworn  in.  Mr.  Braham  whispered 
to  O’Keefe,  “ that’s  the  man.” 

Avery  Hicks,  pea-nut  peddler.  Did  he  ever  hear  of  this 
case  ? The  man  shook  his  head. 

Can  you  read  ? ” 

Ko.” 

Any  scruples  about  capital  punishment  ? ” 

No.” 

He  Avas  about  to  be  sworn,  when  the  district  attorney  turn- 
ing to  him  carelessly,  remarked. 

Understand  the  nature  of  an  oath  ? ” 

Outside,”  said  the  man,  pointing  to  the  door. 

I say,  do  you  know  what  an  oath  is  ? ” 

Five  cents,”  explained  the  man. 

Do  you  mean  to  insult  me?”  roared  the  prosecuting 
officer.  “ Are  you  an  idiot  ? ” 

Fresh  baked.  I’m  deefe.  I don’t  hear  a word  you 
say.” 

The  man  was  discharged.  He  wouldn’t  have  made  a bad 

juror,  though,”  whis- 
pered Braham.  I saw 
him  looking  at  the  pris- 
o n e r sy  mpathizingly. 
That’s  a point  you  want 
to  watch  for.” 

The  result  of  the 
whole  day’s  work  was 
the  selection  of  only 
two  jurors.  These  how- 
ever were  satisfactory 
to  Mr.  Braham.  He 
had  kept  ofi  all  those 
he  did  not  know.  No 
<one  knew  better  than  this  great  criminal  law^mr  that  the 
battle  was  fought  on  the  selection  of  the  jury.  The  subse- 
quent examinatioii  of  Avitnesses,  the  eloquence  expended  on 


MR.  HICKS. 


THE  WORK  OF  FOUR  DAYS. 


493^ 


the  jury  are  all  for  effect  outside.  At  least  that  is  the  theory 
of  Mr.  Braham.  But  human  nature  is  a queer  thing,  he 
admits ; sometimes  jurors  are  unaccountably  swayed,  be  as 
careful  as  you  can  in  choosing  them. 

It  was  four  weary  days  before  this  jury  was  made  up,  but 
when  it  was  finally  complete,  it  did  great  credit  to  the  counsel 
for  the  defence.  So  far  as  Mr.  Braham  knew,  only  two  could 
read,  one  of  whom  was  the  foreman,  Mr.  Braham’s  friend, 
the  showy -contractor.  Low  foreheads  and  heavy  faces  they 
all  had  ; some  had  a look  of  animal  cunning,  while  the  most 
were  only  stupid.  The  entire  pannel  formed  that  boasted 
heritage  commonly  described  as  the  bulwark  of  our 
liberties.” 

The  District  Attorney,  Mr.  McFlinn,  opened  the  case  for 
the  state.  He  spoke  with  only  the  slightest  accent,  one  that 
had  been  inherited  but  not  cultivated.  He  contented  him- 
self' with  a brief  statement  of  the  case.  The  state  would 
prove  that  Laura  Hawkins,  the  prisoner  at  the  bar,  a fiend  in 
the  form  of  a beautiful  woman,  shot  dead  George  Selby,  a 
Southern  gentleman,  at  the  time  and  place  described.  That 
the  murder  was  in  cold  blood,  deliberate  and  without  provo- 
cation ; that  it  had  been  long  premeditated  and  threatened ; 
that  she  had  followed  the  deceased  from  Washington  to  com- 
mit it.  All  this  would  be  proved  by  unimpeachable  witnesses. 
The  attorney  added  that  the  duty  of  the  jury,  however  pain- 
ful it  might  be,  would  be  plain  and  simple.  They  were 
citizens,  husbands,  perhaps  fathers.  They  knew  how  insecure 
life  had  become  in  the  metropolis.  To-morrow  their  own 
wives  might  be  widows,  their  own  children  orphans,  like  the 
bereaved  family  in  yonder  hotel,  deprived  of  husband  and 
father  by  the  jealous  hand  of  some  murderous  female.  The 
attorney  sat  down,  and  the  clerk  called, 

“ Henry  Brierly.” 


CHAPTER  LY. 

“ Dyden  i Midten,”  sagde  Fanden,  han  sad  imellem  to  Procutorer. 

Eur  breutaer  braz  eo ! Ha  klevet  hoc’h  euz-bu  hd  vreut  ? 

Henry  BRIERLY  took  the  stand.  Requested  by  the 
District  Attorney  to  tell  the  jury  all  he  knew  about  the 
killing,  he  narrated  the  circumstances  substantially  as  the 
reader  already  knows  them. 

He  accompanied  Miss  Hawkins  to  New  York  at  her  re- 
quest, supposing  she  was  coming  in  relation  to  a bill  then 
pending  in  Congress,  to  secure  the  attendance  of  absent  mem- 
bers. Her  note  to  him  was  here  shown.  She  appeared  to 
be  very  much  excited  at  the  Washington  station.  After  she 
had  asked  the  conductor  several  questions,  he  heard  her  say, 
He  can’t  escape.”  Witness  asked  her  “ Who  ? ” and  she  re- 
plied “ Nobody.”  Did  not  see  her  during  the  night.  They 
traveled  in  a sleeping  car.  In  the  morning  she  appeared  not 
to  have  slept,  said  she  had  a headache.  In  crossing  the  ferry 
she  asked  him  about  the  shipping  in  sight ; he  pointed  out 
where  the  Cunarders  lay  when  in  port.  They  took  a cup  of 
coffee  that  morning  at  a restaurant.  She  said  she  was  anxious 
to  reach  the  Southern  Hotel  where  Mr.  Simons,  one  of  the 
absent  members,  was  staying,  before  he  went  out.  She  was 

494: 


HENRY  BRIERLY’S  TESTIMONY. 


495 


entirely  self-possessed,  and  beyond  unusual  excitement  did 
not  act  unnaturally.  After  she  had  fired  twice  at  Col.  Selby, 
she  turned  the  pistol  towards  her  own  breast,  and  witness 
snatched  it  from  her.  She  had  been  a great  deal  with  Selby 
in  Washington,  appeared  to  be  infatuated  with  him. 

(Cross-examined  by  Mr.  Braham.)  . ‘‘Mist-er er 

Brierly ! ” (Mr.  Braham  had  in  perfection  this  lawyer’s  trick 
of  annoying  a witness,  by  drawling  out  the  ‘‘Mister,”  as  if  un- 
able to  recall  the  name,  until  the  witness  is  sufficiently  aggra- 
vated, and  then  suddenly,  with  a rising  infiection.  Hinging  his 
name  at  him  with  startling  unexpectedness.)  “ Mist-er . . « . er 
Brierly  ! What  is  your  occupation  ? ” 

“ Civil  Engineer,  sir.” 

“ Ah,  cmil  engineer,  (with  a glance  at  the  jury).  Follow- 
ing that  occupation  with  Miss  Hawkins  ? ” (Smiles  by  the 
jory). 

“ Ho,  sir,”  said  Harry,  reddening. 

“ How  long  have  you  known  the  prisoner  ? ” 

“ Two  years,  sir.  I made  her  acquaintance  in  Hawkeye, 
Missouri.” 

“ ’M  . . . m . . ra.  Mist-er er  Brierly  ! Were  you  not 

a lover  of  Miss  Hawkins  ? ” 

Objected  to.  “ I submit,  your  Honor,  that  I have  the 
right  to  establish  the  relation  of  this  unwilling  witness  to  the 
prisoner.”  Admitted. 

“ W ell,  sir,”  said  Harry  hesitatingly,  “ we  were  friends.” 

“You  act  like  a friend  ! ” (sarcastically.)  The  jury  were 
beginning  to  hate  this  neatly  dressed  young  sprig.  “ Mist- 
er   er  Brierly  ! Didn’t  Miss  Hawkins  refuse  you  ? ” 

Harry  blushed  and  stammered  and  looked  at  the  judge. 

You  must  answer,  sir,”  said  His  Honor. 

“ She — she — didn’t  accept  me.” 

“ Ho.  I should  think  not.  Brierly  ! do  you  dare  tell  the 
jury  that  you  had  not  an  interest  in  the  removal  of  your  rival, 
Col.  Selby?”  roared  Mr.  Braham  in  a voice  of  thunder. 

“ Hothing  like  this,  sir,  nothing  like  this,”  protested  the 
witness. 


496 


COL.  SELBY’S  DEPOSITION. 


‘‘  That’s  all,  sir,”  said  Mr.  Braham  severely. 

One  word,”  said  the  District  Attorney.  “ Had  you  the 
least  suspicion  of  the  prisoner’s  intention,  up  to  the  moment 
of  the  shooting  ? ” 

Not  the  least,”  answered  Harry  earnestly. 

‘‘  Of  course  not,  of  course  not,”  nodded  Mr.  Braham  to  the 

The  prosecution  then  put  upon  the  stand  the  other  wit- 
nesses of  the  shooting  at  the  hotel,  and  the  clerk  and  the 
attending  physicians.  The  fact  of  the  homicide  was  clearly 
established.  Nothing  new  was  elicited,  except  from  the 
clerk,  in  reply  to  a question  by  Mr.  Braham,  the  fact  that  when 
the  prisoner  enquired  for  Col.  Selby  she  appeared  excitecVand 
there  was  a wild  look  in  her  eyes. 

The  dying  deposition  of  Col.  Selby  was  then  produced.  It 
set  forth  Laura’s  threats,  but  there  was  a significant  addition 
to  it,  which  the  newspaper  report  did  not  have.  It  seemed 
that  after  the  deposition  was  taken  as  reported,  the  Colonel 
was  told  for  the  first  time  by  his  physicians  that  his  wounds 
were  mortal.  He  appeared  to  be  in  great  mental  agony  and 
fear,  and  said  he  had  not  finished  his  deposition.  He  added, 
with  great  difficulty  and  long  pauses  these  words.  ‘‘I — ■ 
have — not — told — all.  I must  tell — put — it — down — I — • 
wronged — her.  Y ears — ago — I — can’t — see — O — God — I — 
deserved — ” That  was  all.  He  fainted  and  did  not  revive 
again. 

The  Washington  railway  conductor  testified  that  the  pris- 
oner had  asked  him  if  a gentleman  and  his  family  went  out 
on  the  evening  train,  describing  the  persons  he  had  since 
learned  were  Col.  Selby  and  family. 

Susan  Cullum,  colored  servant  at  Senator  Dilworthy’s,  was 
sworn.  Knew  Col.  Selby.  Had  seen  him  come  to  the  house 
often,  and  be  alone  in  the  parlor  with  Miss  Hawkins.  He 
came  the  day  but  one  before  he  was  shot.  She  let  him  in. 
He  appeared  fiustered  like.  She  heard  talking  in  the  parlor, 
‘peared  like  it  was  quarrelin.’  Was  af eared  sumfin’  was 


WASHINGTON  HAWKINS  EXAMINED.  497 

wrong.  Just  put  her  ear  to  the  keyhole  of  the  back  parlor 
door.  Heard  a man’s  voice,  “ I can’t,  I can’t.  Good  God,” 
quite  beggin’  like.  Heard  young  Miss’  voice,  “ Take  your 
choice,  then.  If  you  ’bandon  me,  you  knows  what  to  ’spect.” 
Then  he  rushes  outen  the  house.  I goes  in  and  I says, 
‘‘  Missis  did  you  ring  ? ” She  was  a standin’,  like  a tiger, 
her  eyes  flashin’.  I come  right  out. 

This  was  the  substance  of  Susan’s  testimony,  which  was 
not  shaken  in  the  least  by  a severe  cross-examination.  In 
reply  to  Mr.  Braham’s  question,  if  the  prisoner  did  not 
look  insane,  Susan  said,  “ Lord,  no,  sir,  just  mad  as  a haw- 
net.” 

Washington  Hawkins  was  sworn.  The  pistol,  identified 
by  the  ofiicer  as  the  one  used  in  the  homicide,  was  produced. 
W ashington  admitted  that  it  was  his.  She  had  asked  him  for  it 
one  morning,  saying  she  thought  she  had  heard  burglars  the 
night  before.  Admitted  that  he  never  had  heard  burglars  in 
the  house.  Had  anything  unusual  happened  just  before  that  ? 
Nothing  that  he  remembered.  Did  he  accompany  her  to  a re- 
ception at  Mrs.  Shoonmaker’s  a day  or  two  before?  Yes. 
What  occurred  ? Little  by  little  it  was  dragged  out  of  the 
witness  that  Laura  had  behaved  strangely  there,  appeared  to 
be  sick,  and  he  had  taken  her  home.  Upon  being  pushed 
he  admitted  that  she  had  afterwards  confessed  that  she  saw 
Selby  there.  And  Washington  volunteered  the  statement 
that  Selby  was  a black-hearted  villain. 

The  District  Attorney  said,  with  some  annoyance,  “ There 
— there ! That  will  do.” 

The  defence  declined  to  examine  Mr.  Hawkins  at  present. 
The  case  for  the  prosecution  was  closed.  Of  the  murder 
there  could  not  be  the  le^st  doubt,  or  that  the  prisoner  fol- 
lowed the  deceased  to  New  York  with  a murderous  intent. 
On  the  evidence  the  jury  must  convict,  and  might  do  so  with- 
out leaving  their  seats.  This  was  the  condition  of  the  case 
two  days  after  the  jury  had  been  selected.  A week  had 
passed  since  the  trial  opened,  and  a Sunday  had  intervened. 
32- 


498 


MR.  BRAHAM  OPENS  FOR  THE  DEFENCE. 


The  public  who  read  the  reports  of  the  evidence  saw  no 
chance  for  the  prisoner’s  escape.  The  crowd  of  spectators 
who  had  watched  the  trial  were  moved  wdth  the  most  pro- 
found sympathy  for  Laura. 

Mr.  Braham  opened  the  case  for  the  defence.  His  manner 
was  subdued,  and  he  spoke  in  so  low  a voice  that  it  was  only 
by  reason  of  perfect  silence  in  the  court  room  that  he  could 
be  heard.  He  spoke  very  distinctly,  however,  and  if  his 
nationality  could  be  discovered  in  his  speech  it  was  only  in  a 
certain  richness  and  breadth  of. tone. 

He  began  by  saying  that  he  trembled  at  the  responsibility 
he  had  undertaken  ; and  he  should  altogether  despair,  if  he 
did  not  see  before  him  a jury  of  twelve  men  of  rare  intelli- 
gence, whose  acute  minds  would  unravel  all  the  sophistries  of 
the  prosecution,  men  with  a sense  of  honor,  which  would  re- 
volt at  the  remorseless  persecution  of  this  hunted  woman  by 
the  state,  men  with  hearts  to  feel  for  the  wrongs  of  which 
she  was  the  victim.  Far  be  it  from  him  to  cast  any  suspicion 
upon  the  motives  of  the  able,  eloquent  and  ingenious  lawyers 
of  the  state  ; they  act  officially  ; their  business  is  to  convict. 
It  is  our  business,  gentlemen,  to  see  that  justice  is  done. 

“ It  is  my  duty,  gentlemen,  to  unfold  to  you  one  of  the  most 
affecting  dramas  in  all  the  history  of  misfortune.  I shall 
have  to  show  you  a life,  the  sport  of  fate  and  circumstances, 
hurried  along  through  shifting  storm  and  sun,  bright  with 
trusting  innocence  and  anon  black  with  heartless  villainy,  a 
' career  which  moves  on  in  love  and  desertion  and  anguish, 
always  hovered  over  by  the  dark  spectre  of  Insaotty, — an 
^insanity  hereditary  and  induced  by  mental  torture, — until  it 
ends,  if  end  it  must  in  your  verdict,  by  one  of  those  fearful 
accidents  which  are  inscrutable  to  men  and  of  which  God 
alone  knows  the  secret. 

“ Gentlemen,  I shall  ask  you  to  go  with  me  away  from  this 
court  room  and  its  minions  of  the  law,  away  from  the  scene  of 
this  tragedy,  to  a distant,  I wish  I could  say  a happier  day.  The 
story  I have  to  tell  is  of  a lovely  little  girl,  with  sunny  hair  and 


LAURA’S  HISTORY  RE-TOLD. 


499 


laughing  eyes,  traveling  with  her  parents,  evidently  people  of 
wealth  and  refinement,  upon  a Mississippi  steamboat.  There 
is  an  explosion,  one  of  those  terrible  catastrophes  which  leave 
the  imprint  of  an  unsettled  mind  upon  the  survivors.  Hun- 
dreds of  mangled  remains  are  sent  into  eternity.  When  the 
wreck  is  cleared  away  this  sweet  little  girl  is  found  among 
the  panic  stricken  survivors,  in  the  midst  of  a scene  of  horror 
enough  to  turn  the  steadiest  brain.  Her  parents  have  dis- 
appeared. Search  even  for  their  bodies  is  in  vain.  The 
bewildered,  stricken  child — who  can  say  what  changes 
the  fearful  event  wrought  in  her  tender  brain  ? — clings 
to  the  first  person  who  shows  her  sympathy.  It  is  Mrs. 
Hawkins,  this  good  lady  wdio  is  still  her  loving  friend.  Laura 
is  adopted  into  the  Hawkins  family.  Perhaps  she  forgets 
in  time  that  she  is  not  their  child.  She  is  an  orphan.  Ho, 
gentlemen,  I will  not  deceive  you,  she  is  not  an  orphan. 
Worse  than  that.  There  comes  another  day  of  agony.  She 
knows  that  her  father  lives.  But  who  is  he,  where  is  he  ? 
Alas,  I cannot  tell  you.  Through  the  scenes  of  this  painful 
history  he  fiits  here  and  there,  a lunatic ! If  he  seeks  his 
daughter,  it  is  the  purposeless  search  of  a lunatic,  as  one  who 
wanders  bereft  of  reason,  crying,  where  is  my  child  ? Laura 
geeks  her  father.  In  vain  ! Just  as  she  is  about  to  find  him, 
again  and  again  he  disappears,  he  is  gone,  he  vanishes. 

“ But  this  is  only  the  prologue  to  the  tragedy.  Bear  with 
with  me  while  I relate  it.  (Mr.  Braham  takes  out  his  hand- 
kerchief, unfolds  it  slowly,  crushes  it  in  his  nervous  hand, 
and  throws  it  on  the  table).  Laura  grew  up  in  her  humble 
southern  home,  a beautiful  creature,  the  joy  of  the  house,  the 
pride  of  the  neighborhood,  the  loveliest  flower  in  all  the 
sunny  south.  She  might  yet  have  been  happy ; she  was 
happy.  But  the  destroyer  came  into  this  paradise.  He 
plucked  the  sweetest  bud  that  grew  there,  and  having  enjoyed 
its  odor,  trampled  it  in  the  mire  beneath  his  feet.  George 
Selby,  the  deceased,  a handsome,  accomplished  Confederate 
Colonel,  was  this  human  fiend.  He  deceived  her  with  a 


500 


HER  LIFE  IN  WASHINGTON  REVIEWED. 


mock  marriage  ; after  some  months  he  brutally  abandoned 
her,  and  spurned  her  as  if  she  were  a contemptible  thing ; 
all  the  time  he  had  a wife  in  'New  Orleans.  Laura  was 
crushed.  For  weeks,  as  I shall  show  you  by  the  testimony 
of  her  adopted  mother  and  brother,  she  hovered  over  death 
in  delirium.  Gentlemen,  did  she  ever  emerge  from  this 
delirium  ? I shall  show  you  that  when  she  recovered  her 
health,  her  mind  was  changed,  she  was  not  what  she  had 
been.  You  can  judge  yourselves  whether  the  tottering 
reason  ever  recovered  its  throne. 

“ Years  pass.  She  is  in  Washington,  apparently  the  happy 
favorite  of  a brilliant  society.  Her  family  have  become 
enormously  rich  by  one  of  those  sudden  turns  in  fortune  that 
the  inhabitants  of  America  are  familiar  with — the  discovery 
of  immense  mineral  wealth  in  some  wild  lands  owned  by 
them.  She  is  engaged  in  a vast  philanthropic  scheme  for  the 
benefit  of  the  poor,  by  the  use  of  this  wealth.  But,  alas, 
even  here  and  now,  the  same  relentless  fate  pursued  her. 
The  villain  Selby  appears  again  upon  the  scene,  as  if  on  pur- 
pose to  complete  the  ruin  of  her  life.  He  appeared  to  taunt 
her  with  her  dishonor,  he  threatened  exposure  if  she  did  not 
become  again  the  mistress  of  his  passion.  Gentlemen,  do  you 
wonder  if  this  woman,  thus  pursued,  lost  her  reason,  was  be- 
side herself  with  fear,  and  that  her  wrongs  preyed  upon  her 
mind  until  she  was  no  longer  responsible  for  her  acts  ? I 
turn  away  my  head  as  one  who  would  not  willingly  look  even 
upon  the  just  vengeance  of  Heaven.  (Mr.  Braham  paused 
as  if  overcome  by  his  emotions.  Mrs.  Hawkins  and  Washing- 
ton were  in  tears,  as  were  many  of  the  spectators  also.  The 
jury  looked  scared.) 

“ Gentlemen,  in  this  condition  of  affairs  it  needed  but  a spark 
— I do  not  say  a suggestion,  I do  not  say  a hint — from  this 
butterfly  Brierly,  this  rejected  rival,  to  cause  the  explosion. 
I make  no  charges,  but  if  this  woman  was  in  her  right  mind 
when  she  fled  from  Washington  and  reached  this  city  in  com- 
pany with  Brierly,  then  I do  not  know  what  insanity  is.” 


MRS.  HAWKINS  ON  THE  STAND. 


501 


When  Mr.  Braham  sat  down,  he  felt  that  he  had  the  jury 
with  him.  A burst  of  applause  followed,  which  the  officer 
promptly  suppressed.  Laura,  with  tears  in  her  eyes,  turned  a 
grateful  look  upon  her  counsel.  All  the  women  among  the 
spectators  saw  the  tears  and  wept  also.  They  thought  as 
they  also  looked  at  Mr.  Braham,  how  handsome  he  is  ! 

Mrs.  Hawkins  took  the  stand.  She  was  somewhat  confused 
to  be  the  target  of  so  many  eyes,  but  her  honest  and  good  face 
at  once  told  in  Laura’s  favor. 

‘‘Mrs.  Hawkins,”  said  Mr.  BraKam,  “will  you  be  kind 
enough  to  state  the  circumstances  of  your  finding  Laura  ? ” 

“ I object,”  said  Mr.  McFlinn,  rising  to  his  feet.  “ This 
Las  nothing  whatever  to  do  with  the  case,  your  honor.  I am 
surprised  at  it,  even  after  the  extraordinary  speech  of  my 
learned  friend.” 

“ How  do  you  propose  to  connect  it,  Mro  Braham  ?”  asked 
the  judge. 

“ If  it  please  the  court,”  said  Mr.  Braham,  rising  impres» 
lively,  “your  Honor  has  permitted  the  prosecution,  and  I have 
submitted  without  a word,  to  go  into  the  most  extraordinary 
testimony  to  establish  a motive.  Are  we  to  be  shut  out  from 
showing  that  the  motive  attributed  to  us  could  not  by  reason 
of  certain  mental  conditions  exist  ? I purpose,  may  it  please 
your  Honor,  to  show  the  cause  and  the  origin  of  an  aberration 
of  mind,  to  follow  it  up  with  other  like  evidence,  connecting  it 
with  the  very  moment  of  the  homicide,  showing  a condition 
of  the  intellect  of  the  prisoner  that  precludes  responsibility,” 

“ The  State  must  insist  upon  its  objections,”  said  the  Dis- 
trict  Attorney.  “ The  purpose  evidently  is  to  open  the  door 
to  a mass  of  irrelevant  testimony,  the  object  of  which  is  to 
produce  an  effect  upon  the  jury  your  Honor  well  under- 
stands.” 

“ Perhaps,”  suggested  the  judge,  “ the  court  ought  to  hear 
the  testimony,  and  exclude  it  afterwards,  if  it  is  irrelevant.” 

“ Will  your  honor  hear  argument  on  that  ? ” 

“ Certainly.” 


502 


ARGUMENT  ON  A RULING  OF  THE  COURT. 


And  argument  his  honor  did  hear,  or  pretend  to,  for  two 
whole  days,  from  all  the  counsel  in  turn,  in  the  course  of 
which  the  lawyers  read  contradictory  decisions  enough  to 
perfectly  establish  both  sides,  from  volume  after  volume, 
whole  libraries  in  fact,  until  no  mortal  man  could  say  what 
the  rules  were.  The  question  of  insanity  in  all  its  legal  as- 
pects was  of  course  drawn  into  the  discussion,  and  its  applica- 
tion affirmed  and  denied.'  The  case  was  felt  to  turn  upon 
the  admission  or  rejection  of  this  evidence.  It  was  a sort  of 
test  trial  of  strength  between  the  lawyers.  At  the  end  the 
judge  decided  to  admit  the  testimony,  as  the  judge  usually 
does  in  such  cases,after  a sufficient  waste  of  time  in  what 
are  called  arguments. 

Mrs.  Hawkins  was  allowed  to  go  on. 


CHAPTER  LVI. 


— Voyre  mais  (demandoit  Trinquamelle)  mon  amy,  comment  procedez  rcrai 
en  action  criminelle,  la  partie  coupable  prinse  Jlagrante  crimine  ? — Comme  tous 
aultres  Messieurs  (respondit  Bridoye) — 

“Hag  eunn  dra-bennag  hoc’h  euz-hu  da  lavaroud  dvid  hd  wennidigez ? 

Mrs.  HAWKINS  slowly  and  conscientiously,  as  if  every 
detail  of  her  family  history  was  important,  told  the 
story  of  the  steamboat  explosion,  of  the  finding  and  adoption 
of  Laura.  Silas,  that  is  Mr.  Hawkins,  and  she  always  loved 
Laura  as  if  she  had  been  their  own  child. 

She  then  narrated  the  circumstances  of  Laura’s  supposed 
marriage,  her  abandonment  and  long  illness,  in  a manner 
that  touched  all  hearts.  Laura  had  been  a different  woman 
since  then. 

Cross-examined.  At  the  time  of  first  fi,nding  Laura  on  the 
steamboat,  did  she  notice  that  Laura’s  mind  was  at  all 
deranged  ? She  couldn’t  say  that  she  did.  After  the  recov- 
ery of  Laura  from  her  long  illness,  did  Mrs.  Hawkins  think 
there  were  any  signs  of  insanity  about  her  ? Witness  con- 
fessed that  she  did  not  think  of  it  then. 

Re-Direct  examination.  ‘‘  But  she  was  different  after  that 
“ O,  yes,  sir.” 

Washington  Hawkins  corroborated  his  mother’s  testimony 
as  to  Laura’s  connection  with  Col.  Selby.  He  was  at  Harding 

603 


504 


COLONEL  SELLERS  AS  A WITNESS. 


during  the  time  of  her  living  there  with  him.  After 
Col.  Selby’s  desertion  she  was  almost  dead,  never  appeared 
to  know  anything  rightly  for  weeks.  He  added  that  he 
never  saw  such  a scoundrel  as  Selby.  (Checked  by  District 
attorney.)  Had  he  noticed  any  change  in  Laura  after  her 
illness  ? Oh,  yes.  Whenever  any  allusion  was  made  that 
might  recall  Selby  to  mind,  she  looked  awful — as  if  she  could 
kill  him. 

“ You  mean,”  said  Mr.  Braham,  ‘‘  that  there  was  an  unnatu- 
ral, insane  gleam  in  her  eyes  ? ” 

“ Yes,  certainly,”  said  Washington  in  confusion. 

All  this  was  objected  to  by  the  district  attorney,  but  it  was 
got  before  the  jury,  and  Mr.  Braham  did  not  care  how  much 
it  was  ruled  out  after  that. 

' Beriah  Sellers  was  the  next  witness  called.  The  Colonel 
made  his  way  to  the  stand  with  majestic,  yet  bland  delibera- 
tion. Having  taken  the  oath  and  kissed  the  Bible  with  a 
smack  intended  to  show  his  great  respect  for  that  book,  he 
bowed  to  his  Honor  with  dignity,  to  the  jury  with  familiarity, 
and  then  turned  to  the  lawyers  and  stood  in  an  attitude  of 
superior  attention. 

Mr.  Sellers,  I believe  ? ” began  Mr.  Braham. 

‘‘  Beriah  Sellers,  Missouri,”  was  the  courteous  acknowledge- 
ment that  the  lawyer  w^as  correct. 

“Mr.  Sellers,  you  know  the  parties  here,  you  are  a friend 
of  the  family  ? ” 

'‘Know  them  all,  from  infancy,  sir.  It  was  me,  sir,  that 
induced  Silas  Hawkins,  Judge  Hawkins,  to  come  to  Missouri, 
and  make  his  fortune.  It  was  by  my  advice  and  in  company 
with  me,  sir,  that  he  went  into  the  operation  of — ” 

“Yes,  yes.  Mr.  Sellers,  did  you  know  a Major  Lackland  ? ” 
“Knew  him  well,  sir,  knew  him  and  honored  him,  sir. 
He  was  one  of  the  most  remarkable  men  of  our  country,  sir. 
A member  of  congress.  He  was  often  at  my  mansion  sir,  for 
weeks.  He  used  to  say  to  me,  ‘ Col.  Sellers,  if  you  would 
go  into  politics,  if  I had  you  for  a colleague,  we  should  show 


THE  TRUTH,  THE  WHOLE  TRUTH. 


505 


Calhoun  and  Webster  that  tlie  brain  of  the  country  didn’t 
lie  east  of  the  Alleganies’.  But  I said — ” 

“Yes,  yes.  I believe  Major  Lackland  is  not  living, 
Colonel?” 

There  was  an  almost  imperceptible  sense  of  pleasure  betrayed 
in  the  Colonel’s  face  at  this  prompt  acknowledgment  of  his 
title. 

“ Bless  you,  no.  Died  years  ago,  a miserable  death,  sir,  a 
ruined  man,  a poor  sot.  He  was  suspected  of  selling  his  vote 
in  Congress,  and  probably  he  did ; the  disgrace  killed  him, 
he  was  an  outcast,  sir,  loathed  by  himself  and  by* his  constitu- 
ents. And  I think,  sir — ” 

The  Judge.  “ You  will  confine  yourself.  Col.  Sellers,  to 
the  questions  of  the  counsel.” 

“Of  course,  your  honor.  This,”  continued  the  Colonel  in 
confidential  explanation,  “ was  twenty  years  ago.  I shouldn’t 
have  thought  of  referring  to  such  a trifling  circumstance  now. 
If  I remember  rightly,  sir  ” — 

A bundle  of  letters  was  here  handed  to  the  witness. 

“ Do  you  recognize  that  hand-writing  ? ” 

“ As  if  it  was  my  own,  sir.  It’s  Major  Lackland’s.  I was 
knowing  to  these  letters  when  Judge  Hawkins  received  them. 
[The  Colonel’s  memory  was  a little  at  fault  here.  Mr. 
Hawkins  had  never  gone  into  details  with  him  on  this  subject.] 
He  used  to  show  them  to  me,  and  say,  ‘ Col,  Sellers  you’ve 
a mind  to  untangle  this  sort  of  thing.’  Lord,  how  everything 
comes  back  to  me.  Laura  was  a little  thing  then.  The  Judge 
and  I were  just  laying  our  plans  to  buy  the  Pilot  Knob, 
and — ” 

“ Colonel,  one  moment.  Your  Honor,  we  put  these  letters 
in  evidence.” 

The  letters  were  a portion  of  the  correspondence  of  Major 
Lackland  with  Silas  Hawkins  ; parts  of  them  were  missing 
and  important  letters  were  referred  to  that  were  not  here. 
They  related,  as  the  reader  knows,  to  Laura’s  father.  Lack- 
land  had  come  upon  the  track  of  a man  who  was  searching 


506 


THE  COUNSEL  IN  A WRANGLE. 


for  a lost  cliild  in  a Mississippi  steamboat  explosion  years 
before.  The  man  was  lame  in  one  leg,  and  appeared  to  be 
flitting  from  place  to  place.  It  seemed  that  Major  Lackland 
got  so  close  track  of  him  that  he  was  able  to  describe  his  per- 
sonal appearance  and  learn  his  name.  But  the  letter  contain- 
ing these  particulars  was  lost.  Once  he  heard  of  him  at  a 
hotel  in  Washington ; but  the  man  departed,  leaving  an  empty 
trunk,  the  day  before  the  major  went  there.  There  was 
something  very  mysterious  in  all  his  movements. 

Col.  Sellers,  continuing  his  testimony,  said  that  he  saw  this 
lost  letter,  but  could  not  now  recall  the  name.  Search  for 
the  supposed  father  had  been  continued  by  Lackland,  Hawk- 
ins and  himself  for  several  years,  but  Laura  was  not  informed 
of  it  till  after  the  death  of  Hawkins,  for  fear  of  raising  false 
hopes  in  her  mind. 

Here  the  District  Attorney  arose  and  said, 

“Your  Honor,  I must  positively  object  to  letting  the  wit- 
ness wander  off  into  all  these  irrelevant  details.” 

Mr.  Braham.  “ I submit,  your  Honor,  that  we  cannot  be 
interrupted  in  this  manner.  We  have  suffered  the  state  to 
have  full  swing.  How  here  is  a witness,  who  has  known  the 
prisoner  from  infancy,  and  is  competent  to  testify  upon  the 
one  point  vital  to  her  safety.  Evidently  he  is  a gentleman 
of  character,  and  his  knowledge  of  the  case  cannot  be  shut 
out  without  increasing  the  aspect  of  persecution  which  the 
State’s  attitude  towards  the  prisoner  already  has  assumed.” 

The  wrangle  continued,  waxing  hotter  and  hotter.  The 
Colonel  seeing  the  attention  of  the  counsel  and  Court 
entirely  withdrawn  from  him,  thought  he  perceived  here  his 
opportunity.  Turning  and  beaming  upon  the  jury,  he  began 
simply  to  talk,  but  as  the  grandeur  of  his  position  grew  upon 
him — his  talk  broadened  unconsciously  into  an  oratorial  vein. 

“ You  see  how  she  was  situated,  gentlemen ; poor  child,  it 
might  have  broken  her  heart  to  let  her  mind  get  to  running 
on  such  a thing  as  that.  You  see,  from  wdiat  we  could  make 
out  her  father  was  lame  in  the  left  leg  and  had  a deep  scar  on 


THE  COLONEL  IMPROVES  THE  OPPORTUNITY.  50T 

his  left  forehead.  And  so  ever  since  the  day  she  found  out 
she  had  another  father,  she  never  could  run  across  a lame 
stranger  without  being  taken  all  over  with  a shiver,  and’ 
almost  fainting  where  she  stood.  And  the  next  minute  she 
would  go  right  after  that  man.  Once  she  stumbled  on  a 
stranger  with  a game  leg,  and  she  was  the  most  grateful  thing 


SEARCH  FOR  A FATHER. 


in  this  world — but  it  was  the  wrong  leg,  and  it  was  days  ana 
days  before  she  could  leave  her  bed.  Once  she  found  a mart 
with  a scar  on  his  forehead,  and  she  was  just  going  to  throw 
herself  into  his  arms,  but  he  stepped  out  just  then,  and  there 
wasn’t  anything  the  matter  with  his  legs.  Time  and  time 
again,  gentlemen  of  the  jury,  has  this  poor  suffering  orphan, 
flung  herself  on  her  knees  with  all  her  heart’s  gratitude  in 
her  eyes  before  some  scarred  and  crippled  veteran,  but  always^ 
always  to  be  disappointed,  always  to  be  plunged  into  new 
despair — if  his  legs  were  right  his  scar  was  wrong,, if  his  scar 
was  right  his  legs  were  wrong.  Never  could  find  a man  that 
would  fill  the  bill.  Gentlemen  of  the  jury,  you  have  hearts,, 
you  have  feelings,  you  have  warm  human  sympathies,  yon 
can  feel  for  this  poor  suffering  child.  Gentlemen  of  the  jury. 


.508 


THE  COURT  ASTONISHED. 


Judge  turned  towards  the  Colonel  and  remained  for  several 
seconds  too  surprised  at  this  novel  exhibition  to  speak.  In 
this  interval  of  silence,  an  appreciation  of  the  situation  grad- 
ually stole  over  the  audience,  and  an  explosion  of  laughter 
followed,  in  which  even  the  Court  and  the  bar  could  hardly 
k;eep  from  joining. 

Sheriff.  “ Order  in  the  Court.” 

The  Judge.  “The  witness  will  confine  his  remarks  to 
.answers  to  questions.” 


if  I had  time,  if  1 had  the  opportunity,  if  I might  be  per- 
mitted to  go  on  and  tell  you  the  thousands  and  thousands 
and  thousands  of  mutilated  strangers  this  poor  girl  has  started 
out  of  cover,  and  hunted  from  city  to  city,  from  state  to  state, 
from  continent  to  continent,  till  she  has  run  them  down  and 
found  they  w^an’t  the  ones,  I know  your  hearts — ” 

By  this  time  the  Colonel  had  become  so  warmed  up,  that 
his  voice,  had  reached  a pitch  above  that  of  the  contending 
counsel ; the  lawyers  suddenly  stopped,  and  they  and  the 


TAKING  ADVANTAGE  OF  A LULL. 


THE  COLONEL  INTERRUPTED. 


50^’ 


The  Colonel  turned  courteously  to  the  Judge  and  said, 
Certainly,  your  Honor,  certainly.  I am  not  well  acquain*' 
ted  with  the  forms  of  procedure  in  the  courts  of  New  York,, 
but  in  the  West,  sir,  in  the  West — ” 

The  Judge.  “ There,there,  that  will  do,  that  will  do.!’ 

You  see,  your  Honor,  there  were  no  questions  asked  me, 
and  I thought  I would  take  advantage  of  the  lull  in  the  pro- 
ceedings to  explain  to  the  jury  a very  significant  train  of — ” 
The  Judge.  That  will  do^  sir  1 Proceed  Mr.  Braham.” 
Col.  Sellers,  have  you  any  reason  to  suppose  that  this 
man  is  still  living 

Every  reason,  sir,  every  reason.” 

“ State  why.” 

“ I have  never  heard  of  his  death,  sir.  It  has  never  come 
to  my  knowledge.  In  fact,  sir,  as  I once  said  to  Governor — ” 
“ Will  you  state  to  the  jury  what  has  been  the  effect  of  the 
knowledge  of  this  wandering  and  evidently  unsettled  being, 
supposed  to  be  her  father,  upon  the  mind  of  Miss  Hawkins 
for  so  many  years  ?” 

Question  objected  to.  Question  ruled  out. 

Cross-examined.  “ Major  Sellers,  what  is  your  occupation 
The  Colonel  looked  about  him  loftily,  as  if  casting  in  his 
mind  what  would  be  the  proper  occupation  of  a person  of 
such  multifarious  interests,  and  then  said  with  dignity. 

“ A gentleman,  sir.  My  father  used  to  always  say,  sir  ” — • 
“ Capt.  Sellers,  did  you  ever  see  this  man,  this  supposed 
father?” 

“ No,  sir.  But  upon  one  occasion,  old  Senator  Thompson 
said  to  me,  its  my  opinion,  Colonel  Sellers  ” — 

“ Did  you  ever  see  any  body  who  had  seen  him  ?” 

No,  sir.  It  was  reported  around  at  one  time,  that  ” — 

“ That  is  all.” 

The  defense  then  spent  a day  in  the  examination  of  medi- 
cal experts  in  insanity,  who  testified,  on  the  evidence  heard, 
that  sufficient  causes  had  occurred  to  produce  an  insane  mind 
in  the  prisoner.  Numerous  eases  w^ere  cited  to  sustain  this- 


510 


FOUR  DAYS  SPENT  SUMMING  UP. 


opinion.  There  was  such  a thing  as  momentary  insanity,  in 
which  the  person,  otherwise  rational  to  all  appearances,  was 
for  the  time  actually  bereft  of  reason,  and  not  responsible 
for  his  acts.  The  causes  of  this  momentary  possession 
could  often  he  found  in  the  person’s  life.  [It  afterwards  came 
out  that  the  chief  expert  for  the  defense,  was.  paid  a thousand 
dollars  for  looking  into  the  case.] 

The  prosecution  consumed  another  day  in  the  examination 
of  experts  refuting  the  notion  of  insanity.  These  causes 
might  have  produced  insanity,  hut  there  was  no  evidence 
that  they  have  produced  it  in  this  case,  or  that  the  prisoner 
was  not  at  the  time  of  the  commission  of  the  crime  in  full  pos- 
session of  her  ordinary  faculties. 

The  trial  .had  now  lasted  two  weeks.  It  required  four 
days  now  for  the  lawyers  to  ‘^sum  up.”  These  arguments  of 
the  counsel  were  very  important  to  their  friends,  and  greatly 
enhanced  their  reputation  at  the  har ; but  they  have  small 
interest  to  us.  Mr.  Braham  in  his  closing  speech  surpassed 
himself ; his  elFort  is  still  remembered  as  the  greatest  in  the 
criminal  annals  of  Hew  York. 

Mr.  Braham  re-drew  for  the  jury  the  picture  of  Laura’s 
early  life ; he  dwelt  long  upon  that  painful  episode  of  the 
pretended  marriage  and  the  desertion.  Col.  Selby,  he  said, 
belonged,  gentlemen,  to  what  is  called  the  upper  classes.” 
It  is  the  privilege  of  the  upper  classes  ” to  prey  upon  the 
sons  and  daughters  of  the  people.  The  Hawkins  family, 
though  allied  to  the  best  blood  of  the  South,  were  at  the 
time  in  humble  circumstances.  He  commented  upon  her 
parentage.  Perhaps  her  agonized  father,  in  his  intervals  of 
sanity,  was  still  searching  for  his  lost  daughter.  Would  he 
one  day  hear  that  she  had  died  a felon’s  death?  Society  had 
pursued  her,  fate  had  pursued  her,  and  in  a moment  of  de- 
lirium she  had  turned  and  defied  fate  and  society.  He  dwelt 
upon  the  admission  of  base  wrong  in  Col.  Selby’s  dying  state- 
ment. He  drew  a vivid  picture  of  the  villain  at  last  over- 
taken by  the  vengeance  of  Heaven.  Would  the  jury  say  that 


AFFECTING  APPEALS  TO  THE  JURY. 

this  retributive  justice,  inflicted  by  an  outraged,  a deluded 
woman,  rendered  irrational  by  the  most  cruel  wrongs,  was  in 
the  nature  of  a foul,  premeditated  murder  ? ‘‘  Gentlemen,  it 

is  enough  for  me  to  look  upon  the  life  of  this  most  beautiful 
and  accomplished  of  her  sex,  blasted  by  the  heartless  villainy 
of  man,  without  seeing,  at  the  end  of  it,  the  horrible  spectacle 
of  a gibbet.  Gentlemen,  we  are  all  human,  we  have  all 
sinned,  we  all  have  need  of  mercy.  But  I do  not  ask  mercy 
of  you  who  are  the  guardians  of  society  and  of  the  poor 
waifs,  its  sometimes  wronged  victims ; I ask  only  that  justice 
which  you  and  I shall  need  in  that  last  dreadful  hour,  when 
death  wdll  be  robbed  of  half  its  terrors  if  we  can  reflect  that 
we  have  never  wronged  a human  being.  Gentlemen,  the  life 
of  this  lovely  and  once  happy  girl,  this  now  stricken  woman, 
is  in  your  hands.” 

The  jury  were  visibly  affected.  Half  the  court  room  was 
in  tears.  If  a vote  of  both  spectators  and  jury  could  have 
been  taken  the  verdict  would  have  been,  ‘Get  her  go, 
she  has  Suffered  enough.” 

But  the  district  attorney  had  the  closing  argument.  Calmly 
and  without  malice  or  excitement  he  reviewed  the  testimony. 
As  the  cold  facts  were  unrolled,  fear  settled  upon  the  listen- 
ers. There  was  no  escape  from  the  murder  or  its  premedita- 
tion. Laura’s  character  as  a lobbyist  in  Washington,  which 
had  been  made  to  appear  incidentally  in  the  evidence,  was 
also  against  her.  The  whole  body  of  the  testimony  of  the 
defense  was  shown  to  be  irrelevant,  introduced  only  to  excite 
sympathy,  and  not  giving  a color  of  probability  to  the  absurd 
supposition  of  insanity.  The  attorney  then  dwelt  upon  the 
insecurity  of  life  in  the  city,  and  the  growing  immunity  with 
which  women  committed  murders.  Mr.  McFlinn  made  a 
very  able  speech,  convincing  the  reason  without  touching  the 
feelings. 

The  Judge  in  his  charge  reviewed  the  testimony  with  great 
show  of  impartiality.  He  ended  by  saying  that  the  verdict 
must  be  acquital  or  murder  in  the  first  degree.  If  you  find 


512 


A STATE  OF  SUSPENSE. 


that  the  prisoner  committed  a homicide,  in  possession  of  her 
reason  and  with  premeditation,  your  verdict  will  be  accord- 
. ingly.  If  you  find  she  was  not  in  her  right  mind,  that  she 
was  the  victim  of  insanity,  hereditary  or  momentary,  as  it 
has  been  explained,  your  verdict  will  take  that  into  account. 

As  the  Judge  finished  his  charge,  the  spectators  anxiously 
watched  the  faces  of  the  jury.  It  was  not  a remunerative 
study.  In  the  court  room  the  general  feeling  was  in  favor 
of  Laura,  but  whether  this  feeling  extended  to  the  jury,  their 
stolid  faces  did  not  reveal.  The  public  outside  hoped  for  a 
conviction,  as  it  always  does ; it  wanted  an  example ; the 
newspapers  trusted  the  jury  would  have  the  courage  to  do 
its  duty.  When  Laura  was  convicted,  then  the  public  would 
turn  around  and  abuse  the  governor  if  he  did  not  pardon  her. 

The  jury  went  out.  Mr.  Braham  preserved  his  serene 
confidence,  but  Laura’s  friends  were  dispirited.  Washington 
and  Col.  Sellers  had  been  obliged  to  go  to  Washington,  and 
they  had  departed  under  the  unspoken  fear  that  the  verdict 
would  be  unfavorable, — a disagreement  was  the  best  they 
could  hope  for,  and  money  was  needed.  The  necessity  of  the 
passage  of  the  University  bill  was  now  imperative. 

The  Court  waited  for  some  time,  but  the  jury  gave  no- 
signs  of  coming  in.  Mr.  Braham  said  it  was  extraordinary. 
The  Court  then  took  a recess  for  a couple  of  hours.  Upon 
again  coming  in,  word  was  brought  that  the  jury  hnd  not  yet 
agreed. 

But  the  jury  had  a question.  The  point  upon  which  they 
wanted  instruction  was  this : — They  wanted  to  know  if  Col. 
Sellers  was  related  to  the  Hawkins  family.  The  court  then 
adjourned  till  morning. 

Mr.  Braham,  who  was  in  something  of  a pet,  remarked  to 
Mr.  O’Toole  that  they  must  have  been  deceived — that  jury- 
man with  the  broken  nose  could  read ! 


CHAPTER  LYII. 

“ Wegotogwen  ga-ijiwebadogwen ; gonima  ta-matclii-inakamigad.' 


The  momentous  day  was  at  hand — a day  that  promised  to 
make  or  mar  the  fortunes  of  the  Hawkins  family  for  all 
time.  Washington  Hawkins  and  Col.  Sellers  were  both  up 
early,  for  neither  of  them  could  sleep.  Congress  was  expir- 
ing, and  was  passing  bill  after  bill  as  if  they  were  gasps 
and  each  likely  to  be  it's  last.  The  University  was  on 
file  for  its  third  reading  this  day,  and  to-morrow  Washing- 
ton would  be  a millionaire  and  Sellers  no  longer  impe- 
cunious ; but  this  day,  also,  or  at  farthest  the  next,  the  jury 
in  Laura’s  case  would  come  to  a decision  of  some  kind  or 
other — they  would  find  her  guilty,  Washington  secretly  feared, 
and  then  the  care  and  the  trouble  would  all  come  back  again 
and  there  would  be  wearing  months  of  besieging  judges  for 
Bew  trials  ; on  this  day,  also,  the  re-election  of  Mr.  Dil worthy 
to  the  Senate  would  take  place.  So  Washington’s  mind  was 
in  a state  of  turmoil ; there  were  more  interests  at  stake  than 
it  could  handle  with  serenity.  He  exulted  when  he  thought 
of  his  millions ; he  was  filled  with  dread  when  he  thought  of 
Laura.  But  Sellers  was  excited  and  happy.  He  said: 

‘‘  Everything  is  going  right,  everything’s  going  perfectly 
right.  Pretty  soon  the  telegrams  will  begin  to  rattle  in,  and 
then  you’ll  see,  my  boy.  Let  the  jury  do  what  they  please; 
what  difference  is  it  going  to  make  ? To-morrow  we  can  send 
33-  613 


514 


EED  TAPE  AND  ROUTINE  IN  THE  LAW. 


u million  to  New  York  and  set  the  lawyers  at  work  on  the 
judges ; bless  your  heart  they  will  go  before  judge  after 
judge  and  exhort  and  beseech  and  pray  and  shed  tears.  They 
always  do ; and  they  always  win,  too.  And  they  will  win 
this  time.  They  will  get  a writ  of  habeas  corpus,  and  a stay 
of  proceedings,  and  a supersedeas,  and  a new  trial  and  a 
nolle  prosequi,  and  there  you  are ! That’s  the  routine,  and 
it’s  no  trick  at  all  to  a JSTew  York  lawyer.  That’s  the  regular 
routine — everything’s  red  tape  and  routine  in  the  law,  you 
see ; it’s  all  Greek  to  you,  of  course,  but  to  a man  who  is  ac- 
quainted with  those  things  it’s  mere — I’ll  explain  it  to  you 
sometime.  Everything’s  going  to  glide  right  along  easy  and 
comfortable  now.  You’ll  see,  Washington,  you’ll  see  how 

it  will  be.  And  then,  let  me  think Dilworthy  will  be 

elected  to-day,  and  by  day  after  to-morrow  night  he  will  be 
in  New  York  ready  to  put  in  Ais  shovel — and  you  haven’t 
lived  in  Washington  all  this  time  not  to  know  that  the  people 
who  walk  right  by  a Senator  whose  term  is  up  without  hardly 


TERM  EXPIRED.  RE-ELECTED. 


seeing  him  will  be  down  at  the  deepo  to  say  ^ Welcome  back 
and  God  bless  you.  Senator,  I’m  glad  to  see  you,  sir  ! ’ when 
he  comes  along  back  re-elected,  you  know.  Well,  you  see, 


FROM  OLD  SELLERS  TO  GENERAL  SELLERS. 


515 


liis  influence  was  naturally  running  low  when  he  left  here, 
but  now  he  has  got  a new  six-years’  start,  and  his  suggestions 
will  simply  just  weigh  a couple  of  tons  a-piece  day  after  to- 
morrow. Lord  bless  you  he  could  rattle  through  that  habeas 
corpus  and  supersedeas  and  all  those  things  for  Laura  all  by 
himself  if  he  wanted  to,  when  he  gets  back.” 

I hadn’t  thought  of  that,”  said  Washington,  brighteningj 
but  it  is  so.  A newly-elected  Senator  is  a power,  I know 
that.” 

Yes  indeed  he  is. — Why  it  is  just  human  nature.  Look 
at  me.  When  we  first  came  here,  I was  3£r.  Sellers,  and 
Major  Sellers,  and  Captain  Sellers,  but  nobody  could  ever  get 
it  right,  somehow;  but  the  minute  our  bill  went  through 
the  House,  I was  Colonel  Sellers  every  time.  And  nobody 
could  do  enough  for  me  ; and  whatever  I said  was  wonderful. 
Sir,  it  was  always  wonderful ; I never  seemed  to  say  any  fiat 
things  at  all.  It  was  Colonel  won’t  you  come  and  dine  with  us  : 
and  Colonel  why  do7)it  we  ever  see  you  at  our  house ; and 
the  Colonel  says  this ; and  the  Colonel  says  that ; and  we 
know  such-and-such  is  so-and-so,  because  husband  heard  CoL 
Sellers  say  so.  Don’t  you  see?  Well,  the  Senate  ad  journed 
and  left  our  bill  high  and  dry,  and  I’ll  be  hanged  if  I warn’t 
Old  Sellers  from  that  day  till  our  bill  passed  the  House  again 
last  week.  How  I’m  the  Colonel  again  ; and  if  I were  to  eat 
all  the  dinners  I am  invited  to,  I reckon  I’d  wear  my  teeth' 
down  level  with  my  gums  in  a couple  of  weeks.” 

Well  I do  wonder  what  you  will  be  to-morrow.  Colonel, 
after  the  President  signs  the  bill  ?” 

General^  sir ! — General,  without  a doubt.  Yes,  sir,  to- 
morrow it  will  be  General,  let  me  congratulate  you, 
sir ; General,  you’ve  done  a great  work,  sir  ; — you’ve 
done  a great  work  for  the  niggro  ; Gentlemen,  allow  me  the 
honor  to  introduce  my  friend  General  Sellers,  the  humane 
friend  of  the  niggro.  Lord  bless  me,  you’ll  see  the  news- 
papers say.  General  Sellers  and  servants  arrived  in  the  city 
last  night  and  is  stopping  at  the  Fifth  Avenue ; and  General 


516 


THE  COLONEL  TOUCHED  AND  PLEASED. 


Sellers  has  accepted  a reception  and  banquet  by  the  Cosmo- 
politan Club  ; you’ll  see  the  General’s  opinions  quoted,  too — 
and  what  the  General  has  to  say  about  the  propriety  of  a new 
trial  and  a habeas  corpus  for  the  unfortunate  Miss  Hawkins 
will  not  be  without  weight  in  influential  quarters,  I can  tell 
you.” 

“ And  I want  to  be  the  first  to  shake  your  faithful  old  hand 
and  salute  you  with  your  new  honors,  and  I want  to  do  it  nmjis 


— General !”  said  Washington,  suiting  the  action  to  the  word, 
and  accompanying  it  with  all  the  meaning  that  a cordial 
grasp  and  eloquent  eyes  could  give  it. 

The  Colonel  was  touched  ; he  was  pleased  and  proud,  too ; 
his  face  answered  for  that. 

Not  very  long  after  breakfast  the  telegrams  began  to  arrive. 
The  first  w^as  from  Braham,  and  ran  thus  : 

We  feel  certain  that  the  verdict  will  be  rendered  to-day.  Be  it  good  or 
bad,  let  it  find  us  ready  to  make  the  next  move  instantly,  whatever  it  may 

be.” 


TELEGRAMS  PROVE  TOO  SLOW. 


517 


That’s  the  right  talk,”  said  Sellers.  ‘‘  That  Braham’s  a 
-wonderful  man.  He  was  the  only  man  there  that  really  un- 
derstood me ; he  told  me  so  himself,  afterwards.” 

The  next  telegram  was  from  Mr.  Dilworthy  : 

“ I have  not  only  brought  over  the  Great  Invincible,  but  through  liim  a 
<dozen  more  of  the  opposition.  Shall  be  re-elected  to-day  by  an  overwhelm- 
ing majority.” 

Good  again !”  said  the  Colonel.  “ That  man’s  talent  for 
organization  is  something  marvelous.  He  wanted  me  to  go 
out  there  and  engineer  that  thing,  but  I said,  No,  Dilworthy, 
I must  be  on  hand  here,  both  on  Laura’s  account  and  the 
bill’s — but  you’ve  no  trifling  genius  for  organization  yourself, 
said  I — and  I was  right.  You  go  ahead,  said  I — ^you  can  fix 
lit — and  so  he  has.  But  I claim  no  credit  for  that — if  I 
stiffened  up  his  back-bone  a little,  I simply  put ' him  in  the 
way  to  make  his  fight — didn’t  make  it  myself.  He  has  cap- 
tured Noble — I consider  that  a splendid  piece  of  diplomacy — 
Bplendid,  sir !” 

By  and  by  came  another  dispatch  from  New  York: 

“Jury  still  out.  Xaura  calm  and  firm  as  a statue.  The  report  that  the 
Jury  have  brought  her  in  guilty  is  false  and  premature.” 

Premature  ! ” gasped  Washington,  turning  white.  “ Then 
they  all  expect  that  sort  of  a verdict,  when  it  comes.” 

And  so  did  he ; but  he  had  not  had  courage  enough  to  put 
it  into  words.  He  had  been  preparing  himself  for  the  worst, 
but  after  all  his  preparation  the  bare  suggestion  of  the  possi- 
bility of  such  a verdict  struck  him  cold  as  death. 

The  friends  grew  impatient,  now ; the  telegrams  did  not 
come  fast  enough  : even  the  lightning  could  not  keep  up  with 
their  anxieties.  They  walked  the  fioor  talking  disjointedly 
.and  listening  for  the  door-bell.  Telegram  after  telegram 
came.  Still  no  result.  By  and  by  there  was  one  which  con- 
tained a single  line : 

“ Court  now  coming  in  after  brief  recess  to  hear  verdict.  Jury  ready.** 

“ Oh,  I wish  they  would  finish  ! ” said  Washington.  “ This 
suspense  is  killing  me  by  inches  ! ” 

Then  came  another  telegram  : 

“ Another  hitch  somewhere.  Jury  want  a little  more  time  and  further 
Mistructions.” 


518 


STARTLING  NEWS. 


Well,  well,  well,  this  is  trying,”  said  the  Colonel.  And 
after  a pause,  ‘^ISTo  dispatch  from  Dilworthy  for  two  hours, 
now.  Even  a dispatch  from  him  would  be  better  than  noth- 
ing, just  to  vary  this  thing.” 

They  waited  twenty  minutes.  It  seemed  twenty  hours. 

“Come!”  said  Washington.  “I  can’t  wait  for  the  tele- 
graph boy  to  come  all  the  way  up  here.  Let’s  go  down  to 
Newspaper  Row — meet  him  on  the  way.” 

While  they  were  passing  along  the  Avenue,  they  saw  some 


A FIRE  BRAND. 


one  putting  up  a great  display -sheet  on  the  bulletin  board  of 
a newspaper  office,  and  an  eager  crowd  of  men  was  collectings 
about  the  place.  Washington  and  the  Colonel  ran  to  the  spot 
and  read  this : 

“ Tremendous  Sensation  ! Startling  news  from  Saint’s  Rest ! On  first  ballot 
for  U.  S.  Senator,  when  voting  was  about  to  begin,  Mr.  Noble  rose  in  his  place 
and  drew  forth  a package,  walked  forward  and  laid  it  on  the  Speaker’s  desk,  say- 
ing, ‘ This  contains  $7,000  in  bank  bills  and  w^as  given  me  by  Senator  Dilworthy 
in  his  bed-chamber  at  midnight  last  night  to  buy  my  vote  for  him — I wish  the 


•‘TO  THE  CAPITOL!  ELY! 


519 


Speaker  to  count  the  money  and  retain  it  to  pay  the  expense  of  prosecuting  this 
infamous  traitor  for  bribery.’  The  whole  legislature  was  stricken  speechless 
with  dismay  and  astonishment.  Noble  further  said  that  there  were  fifty  members 
present  with  money  in  their  pockets,  placed  there  by  Dilworthy  to  buy  their 
votes.  Amidst  unparalleled  excitement  the  ballot  was  now  taken,  and  J.  W. 
Smith  elected  U.  S.  Senator  ; Dilworthy  receiving  not  one  vote ! JSFoble  promises 
damaging  exposures  concerning  Dilworthy  and  certain  measures  of  his  now  pending 
in  Congress. 

Good  heavens  and  earth  !”  exclaimed  the  Colonel. 

To  the  Capitol !”  said  Washington.  Fly  !” 

And  they  did  fly.  Long  before  they  got  there  the  news- 
boys were  running  ahead  of  them  with  Extras,  hot  from  the 
press,  announcing  the  astounding  news. 

Arrived  in  the  gallery  of  the  Senate,  the  friends  saw  a 
curious  spectacle — every  Senator  held  an  Extra  in  his  hand 
and  looked  as  interested  as  if  it  contained  ne\vs  of  the  destruc- 
tion of  the  earth.  Not  a single  member  was  paying  the  least 
attention  to  the  business  of  the  hour. 

The  Secretary,  in  a loud  voice,  w^as  just  beginning  to  read 
the  title  of  a bill : 

‘‘House-Bill-]Sro.-4,231,-An-Act-to-Found  -and  -Incorporate- 
the  Knobs-Industrial-University  !-Kead  - flrst-and-second-time 
— considered-in-committee-of  - the  - whole  - ordered  - engrossed- 
and-passed-to-third-reading-and-flnal-passage ! ” 

The  President — Third  reading  of  the  hill ! ” 

The  two  friends  shook  in  their  shoes.  Senators  threw 
down  their  extras  and  snatched  a word  or  two  with  each  other 
in  whispers.  Then  the  gavel  rapped  to  command  silence 
while  the  names  were  called  on  the  ayes  and  nays.  Wash- 
ington grew  paler  and  paler,  weaker  and  weaker  while  the 
lagging  list  progressed ; and  when  it  was  flnished,  his  head 
fell  helplessly  forward  on  his  arms.  The  flght  was  fought, 
the  long  struggle  was  over,  and  he  was  a pauper.  Not  a 
man  had  voted  for  the  bill ! 

Col.  Sellers  was  bewildered  and  well  nigh  paralyzed,  him- 
self. But  no  man  could  long  consider  his  own  troubles  in 
the  presence  of  such  suflering  as  Washington’s.  He  got  him 


520 


A CLOUD  WITH  A SILVER  LINING. 


up  and  supported  him — almost  carried  him  indeed — out  of 
the  building  and  into  a carriage.  All  the  way  home  Wash- 
ington lay  with  his  face  against  the  Colonel’s  shoulder  and 
merely  groaned  and  wept.  The  Colonel  tried  as  well  as  he 
eould  under  the  dreary  circumstances  to  hearten  him  a little, 
but  it  was  of  no  use.  W ashington  was  past  all  hope  of  cheer, 
now.  He  only  said : 

‘‘Oh,  it  is  all  over — it  is  all  over  for  good,  Colonel.  We 
must  beg  our  bread,  now.  W e never  can  get  up  again.  It 
was  our  last  chance,  and  it  is  gone.  They  will  hang  Laura ! 
My  God  they  will  hang  her!  Nothing  can  save  the  poor 
girl  now.  Oh,  I wish  with  all  my  soul  they  would  hang  me 
instead  1 ” 

Arrived  at  home,  Washington  fell  into  a chair  and  buried 
his  face  in  his  hands  and  gave  full  way  to  his  misery.  The 
Colonel  did  not  know  where  to  turn  nor  what  to  do.  The 
servant  maid  knocked  at  the  door  and  passed  in  a telegram, 
saying  it  had  come  while  they  were  gone. 

The  Colonel  tore  it  open  and  read  with  the  voice  of  a man- 
of-war’s  broadside : 

“Yebdict  of  jury.  Not  Guilty  and  Laura  is  feeb!”^ 


COL.  SELLERS  AND  WASHINGTON  RETURN  HOME  AFTER  THE  VOTE. 


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CHAPTER  LVIII. 


Papel  y tinta  y poco  justicia. 

The  court  room  was  packed  on  the  morning  on  which 
the  verdict  of  the  jury  was  expected,  as  it  had  been 
«very  day  of  the  trial,  and  by  the  same  spectators,  who  had 
followed  its  progress  with  such  intense  interest. 

There  is  a delicious  moment  of  excitement  which  the 
frequenter  of  trials  well  knows,  and  which  he  would  not  miss 
for  the  world.  It  is  that  instant  when  the  foreman  of  the 
jury  stands  up  to  give  the  verdict,  and  before  he  has  opened 
his  fateful  lips. 

The  court  assembled  and  waited.  It  was  an  obstinate  jury. 
It  even  had  another  question — this  intelligent  jury — to  ask 
the  judge  this  morning. 

The  question  was  tliis : — ‘‘Were  the  doctors  clear  that  the 
deceased  had  no  disease  which  might  soon  have  carried  him 
off,  if  he  had  not  been  shot  ?”  There  was  evidently  one  jury- 
man who  didn’t  want  to  waste  life,  and  was  willing  to  strike 

521 


522 


THE  VERDICT. 


a general  average,  as  the  jury  always  does  in  a civil  case, 
deciding  not  according  to  the  evidence  but  reaching  the 
verdict  by  some  occult  mental  process. 

During  the  delay  the  spectators  exhibited  unexampled 
patience,  finding  amusement  and  relief  in  the  slightest  move- 
ments of  the  court,  the  prisoner  and  the  lawyers.  Mi’o  Bra- 
ham  divided  with  Laura  the  attention  of  the  house.  Bets 
were  made  by  the  sheriffs  deputies  on  the  verdict,  with  large 
odds  in  favor  of  a disao’reement. 

o 

It  was  afternoon  when  it  was  announced  that  the  jury  was 
coming  in.  The  reporters  took  their  places  and  were  all 
attention ; the  judge  and  lawyers  were  in  their  seats ; the 
crowd  swayed  and  pushed  in  eager  expectancy,  as  the  jury 
walked  in  and  stood  up  in  silence. 

Judge,  “ Gentlemen,  have  you  agreed  upon  your  verdict 

Foreman.  We  have.” 

Judge.  What  is  it  ? ” 

Foreman.  “ Not  Guilty.” 

A shout  went  up  from  the  entire  room  and  a tumult  of 
cheering  which  the  court  in  vain  attempted  to  quell.  For  a 
few  moments  all  order  was  lost.  The  spectators  crowded 
within  the  bar  and  surrounded  Laura  who,  calmer  than  any- 
one else,  was  supporting  her  aged  mother,  who  had  almost 
fainted  from  excess  of  joy. 

And  now  occurred  one  of  those  beautiful  incidents  which  no 
fiction-writer  would  dare  to  imagine,  a scene  of  touching 
pathos,  creditable  to  our  fallen  humanity.  In  the  eyes  of  the 
women  of  the  audience  Mr.  Braham  was  the  hero  of  the 
occasion ; he  had  saved  the  life  of  the  prisoner ; and  besides  he 
was  such  a handsome  man.  The  women  could  not  restrain 
their  long  pent-up  emotions.  They  threw  themselves  upon 
Mr.  Braham  in  a transport  of  gratitude ; they  kissed  him 
again  and  again,  the  young  as  well  as  the  advanced  in  years, 
the  married  as  well  as  the  ardent  single  women;  they  improved 
the  opportunity  with  a touching  self-sacrifice  ; in  the  words 
of  a newspaper  of  the  day  they  lavished  him  with  kisses.’^ 


THE  KISSING  OF  BKAHAM. 


62S' 


It  was  something  sweet  to  do ; and  it  wmnld  be  sweet  for  a 
woman  to  remember  in  after  years,  that  she  had  kissed.. 


A COURT-IN  SCENE. 


Braham  ! Mr.  Braham  himself  received  these  fond  assaiilts^ 
with  the  gallantry  of  his  nation,  enduring  the  ugly,  and 
heartily  paying  back  beauty  in  its  own  coin. 

This  beautiful  scene  is  still  known  in  'New  York  as  “ the 
kissing  of  Braham.” 

When  the  tumult  of  congratulation  had  a little  spent  itself,, 
and  order  was  restored,  Judge  O’Shaunnessy  said  that  it  now" 
became  his  duty  to  provide  for  the  proper  custody  and 
treatment  of  the  acquitted.  The  verdict  of  the  jury  having 
left  no  doubt  that  the  woman  was  of  an  unsound  mind,  with  a 
kind  of  insanity  dangerous  to  the  safety  of  the  community, 
she  could  not  be  permitted  to  go  at  large.  In  accordance 
with  the  directions  of  the  law  in  such  cases,”  said  the  Judge, 

and  in  obedience  to  the  dictates  of  a wise  humanity,  I hereby 
commit  Laura  Hawkins  to  the  care  of  the  Superintendent  of 
the  State  Hospital  for  Insane  Criminals,  to  be  held  in 
confinement  until  the  State  Commissioners  on  Insanity  shall 
order  her  discharge.  Mr.  Sheriff,  you  will  attend  at  once  to 
the  execution  of  this  decree.” 


524 


LAUKA  PRONOUNCED  INSANE. 


Laura  was  overwhelmed  and  terror-stricken.  She  had 
expected  to  walk  forth  in  freedom  in  a few  moments.  The 
revulsion  was  terrible.  Her  mother  appeared  like  one  shaken 
with  an  ague  fit.  Laura  insane ! And  about  to  be  locked  up 
with  madmen ! She  had  never  contemplated  this.  Mr. 
Hraham  said  he  should  move  at  once  for  a writ  of  habeas 
corpus. 

But  the  judge  could  not  do  less  than  his  duty,  the  law  must 
have  its  way.  As  in  the  stupor  of  a sudden  calamity,  and  not 
fully  comprehending  it,  Mrs.  Hawkins  saw  Laura  led  away  by 
the  officer. 

With  little  space  for  thought  she  was  rapidly  driven  to  the 
railway  station,  and  conveyed  to  the  Hospital  for  Lunatic 
Criminals.  It  was  only  when  she  was  within  this  vast  and 
_grim  abode  of  madness  that  she  realized  the  horror  of  her  sit- 
uation. It  was  only  when  she  was  received  by  the  kind  physi- 
cian and  read  pity  in  hi^  eyes,  and  saw  his  look  of  hopeless 
incredulity  when  she  attempted  to  tell  him  that  she  was  not 
insane ; it  was  only  when  she  passed  through  the  ward  to 
which  she  was  consigned  and  saw  the  horrible  creatures,  the 
victims  of  a double  calamity,  whose  dreadful  faces  she  was 
hereafter  to  see  daily,  and  was  locked  into  the  small,  bare 
room  that  was  to  be  her  home,  that  all  her  fortitude  forsook 
her.  She  sank  upon  the  bed,  as  soon  as  she  was  left  alone — 
she  had  been  searched  by  the  matron — and  tried  to  think. 
But  her  brain  was  in  a whirl.  She  recalled  Braham’s  speech, 
she  recalled  the  testimony  regarding  her  lunacy.  She  won- 
dered if  she  wey^e  not  mad  ; she  felt  that  she  soon  should  be 
among  these  loathsome  creatures.  Better  almost  to  have 
■died,  than  to  slowly  go  mad  in  this  confinement. 

— We  beg  the  reader’s  pardon.  This  is  not  history,  which 
has  just  been  written.  It  is  really  what  would  have  occurred 
if  this  were  a novel.  If  this  were  a vrork  of  fiction,  we  should 
not  dare  to  dispose  of  Laura  otherwise.  True  art  and  any 
attention  to  dramatic  proprieties  required  it.  The  novelist 
Avho  would  ^urn  loose  upon  society  an  insane  murderess 


FREE  AGAIN. 


525 


could  not  escape  condemnation.  Besides,  the  safety  of  soci- 
ety, the  decencies  of  criminal  procedure,  what  we  call  our- 
modern  civilization,  all  would  demand  that  Laura  should  be 
disposed  of  in  the  manner  we  have  described.  Foreigners, 
who  read  this  sad  story,  will  be  unable  to  understand  any  other 
termination  of  it. 

But  this  is  history  and  not  fiction.  There  is  no  such  law 
or  custom  as  that  to  which  his  Honor  is  supposed  to  have 
referred  ; Judge  O’Shaunnessy  would  not  probably  pay  any 
attention  to  it  if  there  were.  There  is  no  Hospital  for  Insane 
Criminals ; there  is  no  State  commission  of  lunacy.  What 
actually  occurred  when  the  turhult  in  the  court  room  had  sub- 
sided the  sagacious  reader  wdll  now  learn. 

Laura  left  the  court  room,  accompanied  by  her  mother 
and  other  friends,  amid  the  congratulations  of  those  assem- 


bled, and  was  cheered  as  she  entered  a carriage,  and  drove 
away.  How  sweet  was  the  sunlight,  how  exhilarating  the 
sense  of  freedom ! ere  not  these  following  cheers  the. 


POPULAR  ENDORSEMENT. 


.526 


BAD  NEWS ; THE  BILL  LOST. 


expression  of  popular  approval  and  affection?  Was  she  not 
the  heroine  of  the  hour  ? 

It  was  with  a feeling  of  triumph  that  Laura  reached  her 
hotel,  a scornful  feeling  of  victory  over  society  with  its  own 
weapons. 

Mrs.  Hawkins  shared  not  at  all  in  this  feeling ; she  was  bro- 
ken with  the  disgrace  and  the  long  anxiety. 

Thank  God,  Laura,”  she  said,  ‘Gt  is  over.  How  we  will 
go  away  ifom  this  hateful  city.  Let  us  go  home  at  once.” 

Mother,”  replied  Laura,  speaking  with  some  tenderness, 

i cannot  go  with  you.  There,  don’t  cry,  I cannot  go  back 
to  that  life.” 

Mrs.  Hawkins  was  sobbing.  This  was  more  cruel  than 
anything  else,  for  she  had  a dim  notion  of  what  it  would  be 
to  leave  Laura  to  herself. 

Ho,  mother,  you  have  been  everything  to  me.  You. 
know  how  dearly  I love  you.  But  I cannot  go  back.” 

A boy  brought  in  a telegraphic  despatch.  Laura  took  It 
and  read  i 

“ The  bill  is  lost.  Dilworthy  is  ruined.  (Signed)  Washington.” 

For  a moment  the  words  swam  before  her  eyes.  The  next 
her  eyes  flashed  fire  as  she  handed  the  dispatch  to  her  mother 
and  bitterly  said, 

“ The  world  is  against  me.  Well,  let  it  he,  let  it.  I am 
against  it.” 

This  is  a cruel  disappointment,”  said  Mrs.  Hawkins,  to 
whom  one  grief  more  or  less  did  not  much  matter  now,  “ to 
you  and  W ashington  ; but  we  must  humbly  bear  it.” 

‘‘  Bear  it,”  replied  Laura  scornfully,  I’ve  all  my  life  borne 
it,  and  fate  has  thwarted  me  at  every  step.” 

A servant  came  to  the  door  to  say  that  there  was  a gentle- 
man below  who  wished  to  speak  with  Miss  Hawkins.  J. 
Adolphe  Griller”  was  the  name  Laura  read  on  the  card.  ‘‘I 
do  not  know  such  a person.  He  probably  comes  from  Wash- 
ington. Send  him  up.” 

Mr.  Griller  entered.  He  was  a small  man,  slovenly  in 
dress,  his  tone  confidential,  his  manner  wholly  void  of  ani- 


MR.  GRILLER  THE  LECTURE  AGENT. 


527 


mation,  all  his  features  below  the  forehead  protruding — par- 
ticularly the  apple  of  his  throat — hair  without  a kink  in  it,  a 
hand  with  no  grip,  a meek,  hang-dog  countenance.  He  was 
a falsehood  done  in  flesh  and  blood ; for  while  every  visible 
sign  about  him  proclaimed  him  a poor,  witless,  useless  weak- 
ling, the  truth  was  that  he  had  the  brains  to  plan  great  enter- 
prises and  the  pluck  to  carry  them  through.  That  was  his 
reputation,  and  it  was  a deserved  one. 

He  softly  said : 

I called  to  see  you  on  business.  Miss  Hawkins.  You  have 
my  card  ? ” 

Laura  bowed. 

Mr.  Griller  continued  to  purr,  as  softly  as  before : 

I will  proceed  to  business.  I am  a business  man.  I am 
a lecture-agent.  Miss  Hawkins,  and  as  soon  as  I saw  that  you 
were  acquitted,  it  occurred  to  me  that  an  early  interview 
would  be  mutually  beneflcial.” 

I don’t  understand  you,  sir,”  said  Laura  coldly. 

“ Ho  ? You  see.  Miss  Hawkins,  this  is  your  opportunity. 
If  you  will  enter  the  lecture  field  under  good  auspices,  you 
will  carry  everything  before  you.” 

“ But,  sir,  I never  lectured,  I haven’t  any  lecture,  I don’t 
know  anything  about  it.” 

Ah,  madam,  that  makes  no  difference — no  real  difference. 
It  is  not  necessary  to  be  able  to  lecture  in  order  to  go  into 
the  lecture  field.  If  one’s  name  is  celebrated  all  over  the 
land,  especially,  and  if  she  is  also  beautiful,  she  is  certain  to 
draw  large  audiences.” 

But  what  should  I lecture  about  ? ” asked  Laura,  begin- 
ning in  spite  of  herself  to  be  a little  interested  as  well  as 
amused. 

“ Oh,  why,  woman — something  about  woman,  I should 
say ; the  marriage  relation,  woman’s  fate,  anything  of  that 
sort.  Call  it  The  Bevelations  of  a Woman’s  Life;  now, 
there’s  a good  title.  I wouldn’t  want  any  better  title  than  that. 
I’m  prepared  to  make  you  an  offer.  Miss  Hawkins,  a liberal 
offer, — twelve  thousand  dollars  for  thirty  nights.” 


528 


PHILIP  AGAIN  AT  THE  MINE. 


Laura  thought.  She  hesitated.  Why  not  ? It  would  give 
her  employment,  money.  She  must  do  something  : 

“ I will  think  of  it,  and  let  you  know  soon.  But  still,  there 
is  very  little  likelihood  that  I — however,  we  will  not  discuss 
it  further  noWo” 

Bemember,  that  the  sooner  we  get  to  work  the  better, 
Miss  Hawkins,  public  curiosity  is  so  fickle.  Good  day, 
madam.” 

The  close  of  the  trial  released  Mr.  Harry  Brierly  and  left 
him  free  to  depart  upon  his  long  talked  of  Pacific-coast  mis- 
sion. He  was  very  mysterious  about  it,  even  to  Philip. 

It’s  confidential,  old  boy,”  he  said,  a little  scheme  we 
have  hatched  up.  I don’t  mind  telling  you  that  it’s  a good 
deal  bigger  thing  than  that  in  Missouri,  and  a sure  thing.  I 
wouldn’t  take  a half  a million  just  for  my  share.  And  it  will 
open  something  for  you,  Phil.  You  will  hear  from  me.” 

Philip  did  hear  from  Harry  a few  months  afterward. 
Everything  promised  splendidly,  but  there  was  a little  delay. 
Could  Phil  let  him  have  a hundred,  say  for  ninety  days  ? 

Philip  himseK  hastened  to  Philadelphia,  and,  as  soon  as 
the  spring  opened,  to  the  mine  at  Ilium,  and  began  trans- 
forming the  loan  he  had  received  from  ’Squire  Montague  into 
laborers’  wages.  He  was  haunted  with  many  anxieties  ; in  the 
first  place,  Puth  was  overtaxing  her  strength  in  her  hospital 
labors,  and  Philip  felt  as  if  he  must  move  heaven  and  earth 
to  save  her  from  such  toil  and  sufiering.  His  increased  pe- 
cuniary obligation  oppressed*  him.  It  seemed  to  him  also 
that  he  had  been  one  cause  of  the  misfortune  to  the  Bolton 
family,  and  that  he  was  dragging  into  loss  and  ruin  every- 
body who  associated  with  him.  He  worked  on  day  after  day 
and  week  after  week,  with  a feverish  anxiety. 

It  would  be  wicked,  thought  Philip,  and  impious,  to  pray 
for  luck ; he  felt  that  perhaps  he  ought  not  to  ask  a blessing 
upon  the  sort  of  labor  that  was  only  a venture ; but  yet  in 
that  daily  petition,  which  this  very  faulty  and  not  very  con- 
sistent young  Christian  gentleman  put  up,  he  prayed  earnestly 


SAD  PARTING  OF  LAURA  AND  HER  MOTHER.  520 

enough  for  Ruth  and  for  the  Boltons  and  for  those  whom  he 
loved  and  who  trusted  in  him,  and  that  his  life  might  not  be 
a misfortune  to  them  and  a failure  to  himself. 

Since  this  young  fellow  went  out  into  the  world  from  his 
Rew  England  home,  he  had  done  some  things  that  he  would 
ratlier  his  mother  should  not  know,  things  maybe  that  he 
would  shrink  from  telling  Ruth.  At  a certain  green  age 
young  gentlemen  are  sometimes  afraid  of  being  called  milk- 
sops, and  Philip’s  associates  had  not  always  been  the  most 
select,  such  as  these  historians  would  have  chosen  for  him,  or 
whom  at  a later  period  he  would  have  chosen  for  himself.  It 
seemed  inexplicable,  for  instance,  that  his  life  should  have 
been  thrown  so  much  with  his  college  acquaintance,  Henry 
Brierly. 

Yet,  this  was  true  of  Philip,  that  in  whatever  company  he 
had  been  he  had  never  been  ashamed  to  stand  up  for  the 
principles  he  learned  from  his  mother,  and  neither  raillery 
nor  looks  of  wonder  turned  him  from  that  daily  habit  he* 
learned  at  his  mother’s  knees.  Even  flippant  Harry  respected 
this,  and  perhaps  it  was  one  of  the  reasons  why  Harry  and 
all  who  knew  Philip  trusted  him  implicitly.  And  yet  it 
must  be  confessed  that  Philip  did  not  convey  the  impression 
to  the  world  of  a very  serious  young  man,  or  of  a man  who 
might  not  rather  easily  fall  into  temptation.  One  looking 
for  a real  hero  would  have  to  go  elsewhere. 

The  parting  between  Laura  and  her  mother  was  exceed- 
ingly painful  to  both.  It  was  as  if  two  friends  parted  on  a 
wide  plain,  the  one  to  journey  towards  the  setting  and  the 
other  towards  the  rising  sun,  each  comprehending  that  every 
step  henceforth  must  separate  their  lives  wider  and  wider. 


34- 


CHAPTER  LIX. 


Ebok  imana  ebok  ofut  idibi. 

Epih  Proverb 

‘0  /cag/civog  oo5’  eq)a 
XaXa  rov  oq)iv  Xa^cov 
Evdvv  rov  eraiQOv 
Kal  fiTj  (j/coXia  cpgoveXv, 

Mishittoonaeog  noDwaog 
ayeuuhkone  neen, 

Nashpe  nuskesukqunnonut 
ho,  ho,  nunnaumunun. 

WHEX  Mr.  Xoble’s  bombshell  fell  in  Senator  Dil wor- 
thy’s camp,  the  statesman  was  disconcerted  for  a 
moment. — For  a moment ; that  was  all.  The  next  moment 
he  was  calmly  up  and  doing.  From  the  centre  of  our  coun- 
try to  its  circumference,  nothing  was  talked  of  but  Mr. 
Ruble’s  terrible  revelation,  and  the  people  wxre  furious. 
Mind,  they  were  not  furious  because  bribery  was  uncommon 
in  our  public  life,  but  merely  because  here  was  another  case. 
Perhaps  it  did  not  occur  to  the  nation  of  good  and  worthy 
people  that  while  they  continued  to  sit  comfortably  at  home 
and  leave  the  true  source  of  our  political  power  (the  “ pri- 
maries,”) in  the  hands  of  saloon-keepers,  dog-fanciers  and  hod- 
carriers,  they  could  go  on  expecting  ‘‘  another  ” case  of  this 
kind,  and  even  dozens  and  hundreds  of  them,  and  never  be 

530 


WHAT  SENATOR  BILWORTHY  WAS  CALLED. 


631 


disappointed.  However,  they  may  have  thought  that  to  sit 
at  home  and  grumble  would  some  day  right  the  evil. 

Yes,  the  nation  was  excited,  but  Senator  Dilworthy  was 
ealm — what  was  left  of  him  after  the  explosion  of  the  shell. 
Calm,  and  up  and  doing.  What  did  he  do  first  ? What 
would  you  do  first,  after  you  had  tomahawked  your  mother 
at  the  breakfast  table  for  putting  too  much  sugar  in  your 
•cofiee  ? You  would  “ ask  for  a suspension  of  public  opinion.” 
That  is  what  Senator  Dilworthy  did.  It  is  the  custom.  He 
got  the  usual  amount  of  suspension.  Far  and  wide  he  was 
called  a thief,  a briber,  a promoter  of  steamship  subsidies^ 
railway  swindles,  robberies  of  the  government  in  all  possible 
forms  and  fashions.  Newspapers  and  everybody  else  called 
him  a pious  hypocrite,  a sleek,  oily  fraud,  a reptile  who  ma- 
nipulated temperance  movements,  prayer  meetings,  Sunday 
.schools,  public  charities,  missionary  enterprises,  all  for  his 
private  benefit.  And  as  these  charges  were  backed  up  by 
what  seemed  to  be  good  and  sufficient  evidence,  they  were 
believed  with  national  unanimity. 

Then  Mr.  Dilworthy  made  another  move.  He  moved  in- 
stantly to  Washington  and  “ demanded  an  investigation.” 
Even  this  could  not  pass  without  comment.  Many  papers 
used  language  to  this  effect : 

“ Senator  Dilworthy’s  remains  have  demanded  an  investigation.  This  sounds 
fine  and  bold  and  innocent ; but  when  we  reflect  that  they  demand  it  at  the 
hands  of  the  Senate  of  the  United  States,  it  simply  becomes  matter  for  derision. 
One  might  as  well  set  the  gentlemen  detained  in  the  public  prisons  to  trying  each 
other.  This  investigation  is  likely  to  be  like  all  other  Senatorial  investiga- 
tions ’ — amusing  but  not  useful.  Query.  Why  does  the  Senate  still  stick  to 
this  pompous  word,  ‘ Investigation  ?’  One  does  not  blindfold  one’s  self  in  order 
to  investigate  an  object.” 

Mr.  Dilworthy  appeared  in  his  place  in  the  Senate  and 
offered  a resolution  appointing  a committee  to  investigate  his 
case.  It  carried,  of  course,  and  the  committee  was  appointed. 
Straightway  the  newspapers  said  : 

“ Under  the  guise  of  appointing  a committee  to  investigate  the  late  Mr.  Dilwor- 
thy, the  Senate  yesterday  appointed  a committee  to  investigate  his  accuser^  Mr 
Hoble.  This  is  the  exact  spirit  and  meaning  of  the  resolution,  and  the  committee 
cannot  try  anybody  but  Mr.  Noble  without  overstepping  its  authority.  That  Mr. 


532 


WHO  IS  INVESTIGATED? 


Dilworthy  had  the  effrontery  to  offer  such  a resolution  will  surprise  no  one.)  and 
that  the  Senate  could  entertain  it  without  blushing  and  pass  it  without  shame 
will  surprise  no  one.  We  are  now  reminded  of  a note  which  we  have  received 
from  the  notorious  burglar  Murphy,  in  which  he  finds  fault  with  a statement  of 
ours  to  the  effect  that  he  had  served  one  term  in  the  penitentiary  and  also  one 
in  the  U.  S.  Senate.  He  says,  ‘ The  latter  statement  is  untrue  and  does  me 
great  injustice.’  After  an  unconscious  sarcasm  like  that,  further  comment  is 
unnecessary.” 

And  yet  the  Senate  was  roused  by  the  Dilworthy  trouble. 
Many  speeches  were  made.  One  Senator  (who  was  accused' 
in  the  public  prints  of  selling  his  chances  of  re-election  to  his 
opponent  for  $50,000  and  had  not  yet  denied  the  charge)  said 
that,  the  presence  in  the  Capital  of  such  a creature  as  this 
man  Noble,  to  testify  against  a brother  member  of  their 
body,  was  an  insult  to  the  Senate.” 

Another  Senator  said,  ‘‘  Let  the  investigation  go  on  ; and 


ONE  OF  THE  INSULTED  MEMBERS. 


let  it  make  an  example  of  this  man  Noble ; let  it  teach  him 
and  men  like  him  that  they  could  not  attack  the  reputation 
of  a United  States  Senator  with  impunity.” 

Another  said  he  was  glad  the  investigation  was  to  be  had, 


MR.  NOBLE  BEFORE  THE  COMMITTEE.  533 

for  it  was  high  time  that  the  Senate  should  crush  some  eur 
like  this  man  Noble,  and  thus  show  his  kind  that  it  was  able 
and  resolved  to  uphold  its  ancient  dignity.” 

A by-stander  laughed,  at  this  finely  delivered  peroration, 
•and  said, 

‘‘  Why,  this  is  the  Senator  who  franked  his  baggage  home 
through  the  mails  last  week — registered,  at  that.  However, 
perhaps  he  was  merely  engaged  in  ‘ upholding  the  ancient 
dignity  of  the  Senate,’  then.” 

‘‘No,  the  modern  dignity  of  it,”  said  another  by-stander. 
“ It  don’t  resemble  its  ancient  dignity,  but  it  fits  its  modern 
style  like  a glove.” 

There  being  no  law  against  making  ofiensive  remarks  about 
U.  S.  Senators,  this  conversation,  and  others  like  it,  continued 
without  let  or  hindrance.  But  our  business  is  with  the  in- 
vestigating committee. 

Mr.  Noble  appeared  before  the  Committee  of  the  Senate, 
and  testified  to  the  following  effect : 

He  said  that  he  was  a member  of  the  State  legislature  of  the 
Happy-Land -of -Canaan  ; that  on  the day  of he  as- 

sembled himself  together  at  the  city  of  Saint’s  Rest,  the  capi- 
tal of  the  State,  along  with  his  brother  legislators ; that  he 
was  known  to  be  a political  enemy  of  Mr.  Dilworthy  and 
bitterly  opposed  to  his  re-election  ; that  Mr.  Dilworthy  came 
to  Saint’s  Rest  and  was  reported  to  be  buying  pledges  of  votes 
with  money  ; that  the  said  Dilworthy  sent  for  him  to  come 
to  his  room  in  the  hotel  at  night,  and  he  went ; was  intro- 
-duced  to  Mr.  Dilworthy  ; called  two  or  three  times  after 
ward  at  Dilworthy’s  request — usually  after  midnight;  Mr. 
Dilworthy  urged  him  to  vote  for  him  ; Noble  declined  ; Dil- 
worthy argued  ; said  he  was  bound  to  be  elected,  and  could 
then  ruin  him  (Noble)  if  he  voted  no  ; said  he  had  every  rail- 
way and  every  public  office  and  stronghold  of  political  power 
in  the  State  under  his  thumb,  and  could  set  up  or  pull  down 
any  man  he  chose ; gave  instances  showing  where  and  how 
he  had  used  this  power ; if  Noble  would  vote  for  him  he 
would  make  him  a Representative  in  Congress  ; Noble  still 


534: 


HIS  STORY  OF  THE  BRIBING. 


declined  to  vote,  and  said  lie  did  not  believe  Dilwortby  was^ 
going  to  be  elected  ; Dilwortliy  showed  a list  of  men  who’ 
would  vote  for  him — a majority  of  the  legislature ; gave 
further  proofs  of  his  power  by  telling  Noble  everything  the 
ojiposing  party  had  done  or  said  in  secret  caucus ; claimed 
that  his  spies  reported  everything  to  him,  and  that 

Here  a member  of  the  Committee  objected  that  this  evi- 
dence was  irrelevant  and  also  in  opposition  to  the  spirit  of 
the  Committee’s  instructions,  because  if  these  things  reflected 
upon  any  one  it  was  upon  Mr.  Dilworthy.  The  chairman 
said,  let  the  person  proceed  with  his  statement — the  Com- 
mittee could  exclude  evidence  that  did  not  bear  upon  the  case, 

Mr.  Noble  continued.  He  said  that  his  party  would  cast 
him  out  if  he  voted  for  Mr.  Dilworthy  ; Dilworthy  said  that 
that  would  inure  to  his  benefit  because  he  would  then  be  a 
recognized  friend  of  his  (Dilworthy’s)  and  he  could  consist- 
ently exalt  him  politically  and  make  his  fortune  ; Noble  said 
he  was  poor,  and  it  was  hard  to  tempt  him  so ; Dilworthy 
said  he  would  fix  that ; he  said.  Tell  me  what  you  want,  and 
say  you  wflll  vote  for  me  Noble  could  not  say  ; Dilworthy 
said  I will  give  you  $5,000 — ” 

A Committee  man  said,  impatiently,  that  this  stutf  was  all 
outside  the  case,  and  valuable  time  was  being  wasted ; this 
was  all  a plain  reflection  upon  a brother  Senator.  The  Chair- 
man said  it  was  the  quickest  way  to  proceed,  and  the  evi- 
dence need  have  no  weight. 

Mr.  Noble  continued.  He  said  he  told  Dilworthy  that 
$5,000  was  not  much  to  pay  for  a man’s  honor,  character  and 
everything  that  was  worth  having ; Dilworthy  said  he  was 
surprised ; he  considered  $5,000  a fortune  for  some  men ; 
asked  what  Noble’s  figure  was;  Noble  said  he  could  not 
think  $10,000  too  little  ; Dilworthy  said  it  was  a great  deal 
too  much;  he  would  not  do  it  for  any  other  man,  but  he  had 
conceived  a liking  for  Noble,  and  where  he  liked  a man  his 
heart  yearned  to  help  him  ; he  was  aware  that  Noble  was 
poor,  and  had  a family  to  support,  and  that  he  bore  an  un- 
blemished reputation  at  home ; for  such  a man  and  such  a 


PKICE  OF  HONOR  AND  CHARACTER. 


635 


man’s  influence  he  could  do  much,  and  feel  that  to  help  such 
a man  would  be  an  act  that  would  have  its  reward  ; the  strug- 
gles of  the  poor  always  touched  him  ; he  believed  that  Noble 
would  make  a good  use  of  this  money  and  that  it  would  cheer 
many  a sad  heart  and  needy  home;  he  would  give  the 
$10,000  ; all  he  desired  in  return  was  that  when  the  balloting 
began.  Noble  should  cast  his  vote  for  him  and  should  explain 
to  the  legislature  that  upon  looking  into  the  charges  against 
Mr.  Dilworthy  of  bribery,  corruption,  and  forwarding  stealing 
measures  in  Congress  he  had  found  them  to  be  base  calumnies 
upon  a man  whose  motives  were  pure  and  whose  character 
was  stainless  ; he  then  took  from  his  pocket  $2,000  in  bank 


TOUCHED  BY  THE  STRUGGLES  OP  THE  POOR. 


bills  and  handed  them  to  Noble,  and  got  another  package 
containg  $5,000  out  of  his  trunk  and  gave  to  him  also.  He — 
A Committee  man  jumped  up,  and  said  : 

At  last,  Mr.  Chairman,  this  shameless  person  has  arrived 
at  the  point.  This  is  suflScient  and  conclusive.  By  his  own 
eonfession  he  has  received  a bribe,  and  did  it  deliberately.^ 


536 


SENATOR  DILWORTHY  ON  THE  STAND. 


This  is  a grave  offense,  and  cannot  be  passed  over  in  silence, 
sir.  By  the  terms  of  our  instructions  we  can  now  proceed  to 
mete  out  to  him  such  punishment  as  is  meet  for  one  who  has 
maliciously  brought  disrespect  upon  a Senator  of  the  United 
States.  We  have  no  need  to  hear  the  rest  of  his  evidence.” 

The  Chairman  said  it  would  be  better  and  more  regular  to 
proceed  with  the  investigation  according  to  the  usual  forms. 
A note  would  be  made  of  Mr.  Noble’s  admission. 

I Mr.  Noble  continued.  He  said  that  it  was  now  far  past 
midnight ; that  he  took  his  leave  and  went  straight  to  certain 
legislators,  told  them  everything,  made  them  count  the  money, 
and  also  told  them  of  the  exposure  he  would  make  in  joint 
convention  ; he  made  that  exposure,  as  all  the  world  knew. 
The  rest  of  the  $10,000  was  to  be  paid  the  day  after  Dil- 
worthy  was  elected. 

Senator  Dilworthy  was  now  asked  to  take  the  stand  and 
tell  what  he  knew  about  the  man  Noble.  The  Senator  wiped 
his  mouth  with  his  handkerchief,  adjusted  his  white  cravat, 
and  said  that  but  for  the  fact  that  public  morality  required 
an  example,  for  the  vrarning  of  future  Nobles,  he  would  beg 
that  in  Christian  charity  this  poor  misguided  creature  might 
be  forgiven  and  set  free.  . He  said  that  it  was  but  too  evi- 
dent that  this  person  had  approached  him  in  the  hope’  of 
obtaining  a bribe  ; he  had  intruded  himself  time  and  again,  and 
always  with  moving  stories  of  his  poverty.  Mr.  Ihlworthy 
said  that  his  heart  Lad  bled  for  him — insomuch  that  he  had 
several  times  been  on  the  point  of  trying  to  get  some  one  to 
do  something  for  him.  Some  instinct  had  told  him  from  the 
beginning  that  this  was  a bad  man,  an  evil-minded  man,  but 
his  inexperience  of  such  had  blinded  him  to  his  real  motives, 
and  hence  he  had  never  dreamed  that  his  object  was  to  under- 
mine the  purity  of  a United  States  Senator.  He  regretted 
that  it  was  plain,  now,  that  such  was  the  man’s  object  and 
that  punishment  could  not  with  safety  to  the  Senate’s  honor 
be  withheld.  He  grieved  to  say  that  one  of  those  mysterious 
dispensations  of  an  inscrutable  Providence  which  are  decreed 
from  time  to  time  by  His  wisdom  and  for  His  righteous ^ 


THE  WHOLE  THING  EXPLAINED.  6ST 

purposes,  had  given  this  conspirator’s  tale  a color  of  plausibil- 
ity,— but  this  would  soon  disappear  under  the  clear  light  of 
truth  which  would  now  he  throw^n  upon  the  case. 

It  so  happened,  (said  the  Senator,)  that  about  the  time  in 
question,  a poor  young  friend  of  mine,  living  in  a distant 
town  of  my  State,  wished  to  establish  a bank  ; he  asked  me 
to  lend  him  the  necessary  money  ; I said  I had  no  money 
just  then,  but  would  try  to  borrow  it.  The  day  before  the 
election  a friend  said  to  me  that  my  election  expenses  must 
be  very  large — especially  my  hotel  bills, — and  offered  to  lend 
me  some  money.  Kemembering  my  young  friend,  I said  I 
would  like  a few  thousands  now,  and  a few  more  by  and  by ; 
whereupon  he  gave  me  two  packages  of  bills  said  to  contain 
$2,000  and  $5,000  respectively  ; I did  not  open  the  packages 
or  count  the  money  ; I did  not  give  any  note  or  receipt  for 
the-same;  I made  no  memorandum  of  the  transaction,  and 
neither  did  my  friend.  That  night  this  evil  man  Noble  came 
troubling  me  again.  I could  not  rid  myself  of  him,  though 
my  time  was  very  precious.  He  mentioned  my  young  friend 
and  said  he  was  very  anxious  to  have  $7,000  now  to  begin 
his  banking  operations  with,  and  could  wait  a wdiile  for  the 
rest.  Noble  wished  to  get  the  money  and  take  it  to  him.  I 
finally  gave  him  the  two  packages  of  bills ; I took  no  note  or 
receipt  from  him,  and  made  no  memorandum  of  the  matter.  I 
no  more  look  for  duplicity  and  deception  in  another  man  than  I 
would  look  for  it  in  myself.  I never  thought  of  this  man  again 
until  I was  overwhelmed  the  next  day  by  learning  wdiat  a 
• shameful  use  he  had  made  of  the  confidence  I had  reposed  in 
him  and  the  money  I had  entrusted  to  his  care.  This  is  all, 
gentlemen.  To  the  absolute  truth  of  every  detail  of  my 
statement  I solemnly  swear,  and  I call  Him  to  witness  who 
is  the  Truth  and  the  loving  Father  of  all  whose  lips  abhor 
false  speaking ; I pledge  my  honor  as  a Senator,  that  I have 
spoken  but  the  truth.  May  God  forgive  this  wicked  man — 
as  I do. 

Mr.  Noble — Senator  Dilworthy,  your  bank  account  shows 
that  up  to  that  day,  and  even  on  that  very  day,  you  conducted 


538 


MR.  NOBLE  GETS  EXCITED. 


all  your  financial  business  tlirougb  tlie  medium  of  checks  in- 
stead of  bills,  and  so  kept  careful  record  of  every  moneyed 


MR.  NOBLE  ASKS  QUESTIONS. 


transaction.  Why  did  you  deal  in  bank  bills  on  this  particu- 
lar occasion  ? ” 

The  ChairmoM — “ The  gentleman  will  please  to  remember 
that  the  Committee  is  conducting  this  investigation.” 

Mr.  Noble — “ Then  will  the  Committee  ask  the  question  ? ” 

The  Chairman — “^‘The  Committee  will — when  it  desires 
to  know.” 

Mr.  Noble — ‘‘  Which  will  not  be  during  this  century  per- 
haps.” 

The  Chairman — ‘^Another  remark  like  that,  sir,  will  pro- 
cure you  the  attentions  of  the  Sergeant-at-arms.” 

Mr.  Noble — “ D n the  Sergeant-at-arms,  and  the  Com- 

mittee too ! ” 

Several  Committeemen — Mr.  Chairman,  this  is  contempt !” 

Mr.  Noble — “ Contempt  of  whom  ? ” 

‘‘  Of  the  Committee ! Of  the  Senate  of  the  United  States 


CUSTOMS  PROVED  BY  THE  SENATOR’S  STATEMENT.  539' 

Mr,  Noble — Then  I am  become  tlie  acknowledged  repre- 
sentative of  a nation.  You  know  as  well  as  I do  that  the 
whole  nation  hold  as  much  as  three-lifths  of  the  United  States 
Senate  in  entire  contempt. — Three-fifths  of  you  are  Dil- 
worthys.’’ 

The  Sergeant-at-arms  very  soon  put  a quietus  upon  the 
observations  of  the  representative  of  the  nation,  and  con- 
vinced him  that  he  was  not  in  the  over-free  atmosphere  of  his 
Happy-Land-of-Canaan. 

The  statement  of  Senator  Dilworthy  naturally  carried  con- 
viction to  the  minds  of  the  committee.— It  was  close,  logical, 
unanswerable;  it  bore  many  internal  evidences  of  its  truth. — 
For  instance,  it  is  customary  in  all  countries  for  business  men 
to  loan  large  sums  of  money  in  bank  bills  instead  of  checks. 
It  is  customary  for  the  lender  to  make  no  memorandum  of 
the  transaction.  It  is  customary  for  the  borrower  to  receive 
the  money  without  making  a memorandum  of  it,  or  giving  a 
note  or  a receipt  for  it — because  the  borrower  is  not  likely  to 
die  or  forget  about  it.  It  is  customary  to  lend  nearly  any- 
body money  to  start  a bank  with,  especially  if  you  have  not 
the  money  to  lend  him  and  have  to  borrow  it  for  the  purpose. 
It  is  customary  to  carry  large  sums  of  money  in  bank  bills 
about  your  person  or  in  your  trunk.  It  is  customary  to  hand 
a large  sum  in  bank  bills  to  a man  you  have  just  been  intro- 
duced to  (if  he  asks  you  to  do  it,)  to  be  conveyed  to  a distant 
town  and  delivered  to  another  party.  It  is  not  customary  tO' 
make  a memorandum  of  this  transaction ; it  is  not  customary 
for  the  conveyor  to  give  a note  or  a receipt  for  the  money  ; 
it  is  not  customary  to  require  that  he  shall  get  a note  or  a re- 
ceipt from  the  man  he  is  to  convey  it  to  in  the  distant  town. 
It  would  beat  least  singular  in  you  to  say  to  the  proposed 
conveyor,  ‘‘You  might  be  robbed  ; I will  deposit  the  money 
in  bank  and  send  a check  for  -it  to  my  friend  through  the 
mail.” 

Y ery  well.  It  being  plain  that  Senator  Dilworthy’s  state- 
ment was  rigidly  true,  and  this  fact  being  strengthened  by 
his  adding  to  it  the  support  of  “ his  honor  as  a Senator,”  the 


■640 


ACTION  ON  THE  REPORT  IN  THE  SENATE. 


Ck)mmittee  rendered  a verdict  of  “ E’ot  proven  that  a bribe  had 
been  offered  and  accepted.”  This  in  a manner  exonerated 
Noble  and  let  him  escape. 

The  Committee  made  its  report  to  the  Senate,  and  that 
body  proceeded  to  consider  its  acceptance.  One  Senator — 
indeed,  several  Senators — objected  that  the  Committee  had 
Tailed  of  its  duty ; they  had  proved  this  man  Noble  guilty  of 
nothing,  they  had  meted  out  no  punishment  to  him ; if  the 
report  were  accepted,  he  would  go  forth  free  and  scathless, 
glorying  in  his  crime,  and  it  would  be  a tacit  admission  that 
any  blackguard  could  insult  the  Senate  of  the  United  States 
and  conspire  against  the  sacred  reputation  of  its  members 
with  impunity ; the  Senate  owed  it  to  the  upholding  of  its 
ancient  dignity  to  make  an  example  of  this  man  Noble — he 
should  be  crushed. 

An  elderly  Senator  got  up  and  took  another  view  of  the 
case.  This  was  a Senator  of  the  worn-out  and  obsolete  pat- 
tern ; a man  still  lingering  among  the  cobwebs  of  the  past, 
and  behind  .the  spirit  of  the  age.  He  said  that  there  seemed 
to  be  a curious  misunderstanding  of  the  case.  Gentlemen 
seemed  exceedingly  anxious  to  preserve  and  maintain  the  honor 
and  dignity  of  the  Senate. 

Was  this  to  be  done  by  trying  an  obscure  adventurer  for 
attempting  to  trap  a Senator  into  bribing  him  ? Or  would 
not  the  truer  way  be  to  find  out  whether  the  Senator  was 
capable  of  being  entrapped  into  so  shameless  an  act,  and  then 
try  hiin  f Why,  of  course.  Wow  the  whole  idea  of  the  Sen- 
ate seemed  to  be  to  shield  the  Senator  and  turn  inquiry  away 
from  him.  The  true  way  to  uphold  the  honor  of  the  Senate 
was  to  have  none  but  honorable  men  in  its  body.  If  this 
Senator  had  yielded  to  temptation  and  had  offered  a bribe, 
he  was  a soiled  man  and  ought  to  be  instantly  expelled;  there- 
fore he  wanted  the  Senator  tried,  and  not  in  the  usual  nam- 
by-pamby way,  but  in  good  earnest.  He  wanted  to  know 
the  truth  of  this  matter.  For  himself,  he  believed  that  the 
guilt  of  Senator  Iblworthy  was  established  beyond  the 
shadow  of  a doubt;  and  he  considered  that  in  trifling  with 


VARIOUS  OPINIONS. 


54X 


Hscase  and  shirking  it  the  Senate  was  doing  a shameful  and 
cowardly  thing— a thing  which  suggested  that  in  its  willingr 


ness  to  sit  longer  in  the  company  of  such  a man,  it  was 
acknowledging  that  it  was  itself  of  a kind  with  him  and  was. 
therefore  not  dishonored  by  his  presence.  He  desired  that 
a rigid  examination  be  made  into  Senator  Dilworthy’s  case,, 
and  that  it  be  continued  clear  into  the  approaching  extra 
session  if  need  be.  There  was  no  dodging  this  thing  with 
the  lame  excuse  of  want  of  time. 

In  reply,  an  honorable  Senator  said  that  he  thought  it 
would  be  as  well  to  drop  the  matter  and  accept  the  Committee’s 
report.  He  said  with  some  jocularity  that  the  more  one 
agitated  this  thing,  the  worse  it  was  for  the  agitator.  He 
was  not  able  to  deny  that  he  believed  Senator  Dilworthy  to 
be  guilty— but  what  then  ? Was  it  such  an  extraordinary 
case  ? For  his  part,  even  allowing  the  Senator  to  be  guilty, 
he  did  not  think  his  continued  presence  during  the  few  re- 
maining days  of  the  Session  would  contaminate  the  Senate  tO’ 


542  SENATOR  DILWORTHY  FAITHFUL  TO  THE  LAST. 


-a  dreadful  degree.  [This  humorous  sally  was  received  with 
smiling  admiration^ — notwithstanding  it  was  not  wholly  new, 
having  originated  with  the  Massachusetts  General  in  the 
House  a day  or  two  before,  upon  the  occasion  of  the  proposed 
expulsion  of  a member  for  selling  his  vote  for  money.] 

The  Senate  recognized  the  fact  that  it  could  not  be  contam- 
inated by  sitting  a few  days  longer  with  Senator  Dilworthy, 
and  so  it  accepted  the  committee’s  report  and  dropped  the 
unimportant  matter. 

Mr.  Dilworthy  occupied  his  seat  to  the  last  hour  of  the 
session.  He  said  that  his  people  had  reposed  a trust  in  him, 
and  it  was  not  for  him  to  desert  them.  He  would  remain  at 
his  post  till  he  perished,  if  need  be. 

His  voice  was  lifted  up  and  his  vote  cast  for  the  last  time, 
in  support  of  an  ingenious  measure  contrived  by  the  General 
from  Massachusetts  whereby  the  President’s  salary  was 
proposed  to  be  doubled  and  every  Congressman  paid  several 
thousand  dollars  extra  for  work  previously  done,  under  an 
accepted  contract,  and  already  paid  for  once  and  receipted 
for. 

Senator  Dilworthy  was  offered  a grand  ovation  by  his 
friends  at  home,  who  said  that  their  affection  for  him  and 
their  confidence  in  him  were  in  no  wise  impaired  by  the  per- 
secutions that  had  pursued  him,  and  that  he  was  still  good 
enough  for  them.* 


*The  $'7,000  left  by  Mr.  Noble  with  his  state  legislature  was  placed  in  safe 
keeping  to  await  the  claim  of  the  legitimate  owner.  Senator  Dilw  .rthy  made 
one  little  effort  through  his  protdgd  the  embryo  banker  to  recover  it,  but  there 
being  no  notes  of  hand  or  other  memoranda  to  support  the  claim,  it  failed. 
The  moral  of  which  is,  that  when  one  loans  money  to  start  a bank  with,  one 
ought  to  take  the  party’s  written  acknowledgment  of  the  fact. 


CHAPTER  LX. 


“Ow  holan  whath  ythew  prowte 
kynthoma  ogas  mar  owe” — 

rOK  some  days  Laura  had  been  a free  woman  once  more. 

During  this  time,  she  had  experienced — first,  two  or 
three  days  of  triumph,  excitement,  congratulations,  a sort  of 
sunburst  of  gladness,  after  a long  night  of  gloom  and  anxiety ; 
then  two  or  three  days  of  calming  down,  by  degrees — a reced- 
ing of  tides,  a quieting  of  the  storm-wash  to  a murmurous 
snrf-beat,  a diminishing  of  devastating  winds  to  a refrain  that 
bore  the  spirit  of  a truce — days  given  to  solitude,  rest,  self- 
communion,  and  the  reasoning  of  herself  into  a realization  of 
the  fact  that  she  was  actually  done  with  bolts  and  bars,  prison 
horrors  and  impending  death ; then  came  a day  whose  hours 
filed  slowly  by  her,  each  laden  with  some  remnant,  some 
remaining  fragment  of  the  dreadful  time  so  lately  ended — a 
day  which,  closing  at  last,  left  the  past  a fading  shore  behind 
hei-  and  turned  her  eyes  toward  the  broad  sea  of  the  future. 
So  speedily  do  we  put  the  dead  away  and  come  back  to  our 
place  in  the  ranks  to  march  in  the  pilgrimage  of  life  again ! 

And  now  the  sun  rose  once  more  and  ushered  in  the  first 
day  of  what  Laura  comprehended  and  accepted  as  a new  life. 

543 


544 


A LIFE  REVIEW. 


The  past  had  sunk  below  the  horizon,  and  existed  no  more 
for  her ; she  was  done  with  it  for  all  time.  She  was  gazing 
out  over  the  trackless  expanses  of  the  future,  now,  with 
troubled  eyes.  Life  must  be  begun  again — at  eight  and 
twenty  years  of  age.  And  where  to  begin  ? The  page  was 
blank,  and  waiting  for  its  first  record  ; so  this  was  indeed  a 
momentous  day. 

Her  thoughts  drifted  back,  stage  by  stage,  over  her  career. 
As  far  as  the  long  highway  receded  over  the  plain  of  her  life, 
it  was  lined  with  the  gilded  and  pillared  splendors  of  her 
ambition  all  crumbled  to  ruin  and  ivy -grown*;  every  mile- 
stone marked  a disaster ; there  was  no  green  spot  remaining 
anywhere  in  memory  of  a hope  that  had  found  its  fruition ; 
the  unresponsive  earth  had  uttered  no  voice  of  fiowers  in  tes- 
timony that  one  who  was  blest  had  gone  that  road. 

Her  life  had  been  a failure.  That  was  plain,  she  said.  Ho 
more  of  that.  She  would  now  look  the  future  in  the  face ; 
she  would  mark  her  course  upon  the  chart  of  life,  and  follow 
it;  follow  it  without  swerving,  through  rocks  and  shoals, 
through  storm  and  calm,  to  a haven  of  rest  and  peace — or, 
shipwreck.  Let  the  end  be  what  it  might,  she  would  mark 
her  course  now — to-day — and  follow  it. 

On  her  table  lay  six  or  seven  notes.  They  were  from  lov- 
ers ; from  some  of  the  prominent  names  in  the  land ; men 
whose  devotion  had  survived  even  the  grisly  revealments  of 
her  character  which  the  courts  had  uncurtained ; men  who 
knew  her  now,  just  as  she  was,  and  yet  pleaded  as  for  their 
lives  for  the  dear  privilege  of  calling  the  murderess  wife. 

As  she  read  these  passionate,  these  worshiping,  these  sup- 
plicating missives,  the  woman  in  her  nature  confessed  itself; 
a strong  yearning  came  upon  her  to  lay  her  head  upon  a 
loyal  breast  and  find  rest  from  the  conflict  of  life,  solace  for 
her  griefs,  the  healing  of  love  for  her  bruised  heart. 

With  her  forehead  resting  upon  her  hand,  she  sat  thinking, 
thinking,  while  the  unheeded  moments  winged  their  flight. 
It  was  one  of  those  mornings  in  early  spring  when  nature 
seems  just  stirring  to  a half  consciousness  out  of  a long, 


THINKING,  THINKING,  THINKING.  545 

exhausting  lethargy ; when  the  first  faint  balmy  airs  go  wan- 
dering about,  whispering  the  secret  of  the  coming  change ; 
when  the  abused  brown  grass,  newly  relieved  of  snow,  seems 
considering  whether  it  can  be  worth  the  trouble  and  worry 
of  contriving  its  green  raiment  again  only  to  fight  the  inevi- 
table fight  with  the  implacable  winter  and  be  vanquished  and 
buried  once  more ; when  the  sun  shines  out  and  a few  birds 
venture  forth  and  lift  up  a forgotten  song;  when  a strange 
stillness  and  suspense  pervades  the  waiting  air.  It  is  a time 
when  one’s  spirit  is  subdued  and  sad,  one  knows  not  why  ; 
when  the  past  seems  a storm-swept  desolation,  life  a vanity 
and  a burden,  and  the  future  but  a way  to  death.  It  is  a 
time  when  one  is  filled  with  vague  longings ; when  one  dreams 
of  flight  to  peaceful  islands  in  the  remote  solitudes  of  the  sea, 
or  folds  his  hands  and  says.  What  is  the  use  of  struggling, 
and  toiling  and  worrying  any  more  ? let  us  give  it  all  up. 


THE  PAST,  PRESENT  AND  FUTURE. 


It  was  into  such  a mood  as  this  that  Laura  had  drifted 
from  the  musings  which  the  letters  of  her  lovers  had  called 
35-  


546  LAURA  DECIDES,  AND  CUTS  OEF  ALL  RETREAT. 

up.  * Now  she  lifted  her  head  and  noted  with  surprise  how 
the  day  had  wasted.  She  thrust  the  letters  aside,  rose  up 
and  went  and  stood  at  the  window.  But  she  was  soon  think- 
ing again,  and  was  only  gazing  into  vacancy. 

By  and  by  she  turned  ; her  countenance  had  cleared  ; the 
dreamy  look  w^as  gone  out  of  her  face,  all  indecision  had  van- 
ished ; the  poise  of  her  head  and  the  firm  set  of  her  lips  told 
that  her  resolution  was  formed.  She  moved  toward  the  table 
with  all  the  old  dignity  in  her  carriage,  and  all  the  old  pride 
in  her  mien.  She  took  up  each  letter  in  its  turn,  touched  a 
match  to  it  and  watched  it  slowly  consume  to  ashes.  Then 
she  said : 

“ I have  landed  upon  a foreign  shore,  and  burned  my  ships 
behind  jne.  These  letters  were  the  last  thing  that  held  mj.e 
in  sympathy  with  any  remnant  or  belonging  of  the  old  life. 


THE  LAST  LINK  BROKEN. 


Henceforth  that  life  and  all  that  appertains  to  it  are  as  dead 
to  me  and  as  far  removed  from  me  as  if  I were  become  a den- 
izen of  another  world.” 


HER  PATH  MARKED  OUT. 


547 


She  said  that  love  was  not  for  her — the  time  that  it  could 
have  satisfied  her  heart  was  gone  bj  and  could  not  return  ; 
the  opportunity  was  lost,  nothing  could  restore  it.  She  said 
there  could  be  no  love  without  respect,  and  she  would  only 
despise  a man  who  could  content  himself  with  a thing  like 
her.  Love,  she  said,  was  a woman’s  first  necessity : love  being 
forfeited,  there  was  but  one  thing  left  that  could  give  a pass- 
ing zest  to  a wasted  life,  and  that  was  fame,  admiration,  the 
applause  of  the  multitude. 

And  so  her  resolution  was  taken.  She  would  turn  to  that 
final  resort  of  the  disappointed  of  her  sex,  the  lecture  platform. 
■She  would  array  herself  in  fine  attire,  she  would  adorn  her- 
self with  jewels,  and  stand  in  her  isolated  magnificence 
before  massed  audiences  and  enchant  them  with  her  eloquence 
and  amaze  them  with  her  unapproachable  beauty.  She 
would  move  from  city  to  city  like  a queen  of  romance,  leav- 
ing marveling  multitudes  behind  her  and  impatient  multi- 
tudes awaiting  her  coming.  Her  life,  during  one  hour  of 
each  day,  upon  the  platform,  would  be  a rapturous  intoxica- 
tion— and  when  the  curtain  fell,  and  the  lights  were  out,  and 
the  people  gone,  to  nestle  in  their  homes  and  forget  her,  she 
would  find  in  sleep  oblivion  of  her  homelessness,  if  she 
could,  if  not  she  would  brave  out  the  night  in  solitude  and 
wait  for  the  next  day’s  hour  of  ecstasy. 

So,  to  take  up  life  and  begin  again  was  no  great  evil.  She 
snw  her  way.  She  would  be  brave  and  strong ; she  would 
make  the  best  of  what  was  left  for  her  among  the  possibili- 
ties. 

She  sent  for  the  lecture  agent,  and  matters  were  soon 
arranged. 

Straightway  all  the  papers  were  filled  with  her  name,  and 
all  the  dead  walls  flamed  with  it.  The  papers  called  down 
‘n  precations  upon  her  head ; they  reviled  her  without  stint ; 
they  wondered  if  all  sense  of  decency  was  dead  in  this  shame- 
less murderess,  this  brazen  lobbyist,  this  heartless  seducer  of 
the  affections  of  weak  and  misguided  men  ; they  implored 
the  people,  for  the  sake  of  their  pure  wives,  their  sinless 


548 


A TRIAL  FOR  FAME. 


daughters,  for  the  sake  of  decency,  for  the  sake  of  public- 
morals,  to  give  this  wretched  creature  such  a rebuke  as  should 
be  an  all-sufficient  evidence  to  her  and  to  such  as  her,  that 
there  was  a limit  where  the  flaunting  of  their  foul  acts  and  opin- 
ions before  the  world  must  stop;  certain  of  them,  with  a 
higher  art,  and  to  her  a finer  cruelty,  a sharper  torture, 
uttered  no  abuse,  but  always  spoke  of  her  in  terms  of  mock- 
ing eulogy  and  ironical  admiration.  Everybody  talked, 
about  the  new  wonder,  canvassed  the  theme  of  her  proposed 
discourse,  and  marveled  how  she  would  handle  it. 

Laura’s  few  friends  wrote  to  her  or  came  and  talked  with  her, 
and  pleaded  with  her  to  retire  while  it  was  yet  time,  and  not 
attempt  to  face  the  gathering  storm.  But  it  was  fruitless. 
She  was  stung  to  the  quick  by  the  comments  of  the  news- 
papers ; her  spirit  was  roused,  her  ambition  was  towering,  now. 
She  was  more  determined  than  ever.  She  w^ould  show  these 
people  what  a hunted  and  persecuted  woman  could  do. 

The  eventful  night  came.  Laura  arrived  before  the  great 
lecture  hall  in  a close  carriage  within  five  minutes  of  the 
time  set  for  the  lecture  to  begin.  When  she  stepped  out  of 
the  vehicle  her  heart  beat  fast  and  her  eyes  flashed  with 
exultation : the  whole  street  was  packed  with  people,  and  she 
could  hardly  force  her  way  to  the  hall ! She  reached  the 
ante-room,  threw  off  her  wraps  and  placed  herself  before  the 
dressing-glass.  She  turned  herself  this  way  and  that — every- 
thing was  satisfactory,  her  attire  was  perfect.  She  smoothed 
her  hair,  re-arranged  a jewel  here  and  there,  and  all  the  while 
her  heart  sang  within  her,  and  her  face  was  radiant.  She  had 
not  been  so  happy  for  ages  and  ages,  it  seemed  to  her.  Oh, 
no,  she  had  never  been  so  overwhelmingly  grateful  and 
happy  in  her  whole  life  before.  The  lecture  agent  appeared 
at  the  door.  She  waved  him  away  and  said : 

Do  not  disturb  me.  I want  no  introduction.  And  do 
not  fear  for  me  ; the  moment  the  hands  point  to  eight  I will 
step  upon  the  platform.” 

He  disappeared.  She  held  her  watch  before  her.  She  was 
80  impatient  that  the  second-hand  seemed  whole  tedious 


A BITTER  FAILURE. 


549 


:iniiiiites  dragging  its  way  around  the  circle.  At  last  the  su- 
;preme  moment  came,  and  with  head  erect  and  the  bearing  of  an 
empress  she  swept  through  the  door  and  stood  upon  the  stage. 
Her  eyes  fell  upon — 

Only  a vast,  brilliant  emptiness — there  were  not  forty 
people  in  the  house  ! There  were  only  a handful  of  coarse 
anen  and  ten  or  twelve  still  coarser  women,  lolling  upon  the 
benches  and  scattered  about  singly  and  in  couples. 

Her  pulses  stood  still,  her  limbs  quaked,  the  gladness  went 
out  of  her  face.  There  was  a moment  of  silence,  and  then  a 
brutal  laugh  and  an  explosion  of  cat-calls  and  hisses  saluted 
ber  from  the  audience.  The  clamor  grew  stronger  and 
louder,  and  insulting  speeches  were  shouted  at  her.  A half- 
intoxicated  man  rose  up  and  threw  something,  which  missed 
her  but  bespattered  a chair  at  her  side,  and  this  evoked  an 


THE  TERRIBLE  ORDEAL. 


•outburst  of  laughter  and  boisterous  admiration.  She  was 
bewildered,  her  strength  was  forsaking  her.  She  reeled  away 
^rom  the  platform,  reached  the  ante-room,  and  dropped  help- 


650 


UTTERLY  OVERWHELMED. 


less  upon  a sofa.  The  lecture  agent  ran  in,  with  a hurried 
question  upon  his  lips ; but  she  put  forth  her  hands,  and  with 
the  tears  raining  from  her  eyes,  said  : 

Oh,  do  not  speak  ! Take  me  away — please  take  me  away, 
out  of  this  dreadful  place ! Oh,  this  is  like  all  my  life — 
failure,  disappointment,  niisery — always  misery,  always  fail- 
ure. What  have  I done,  to  be  so  pursued  ! Take  me  away, 
I beg  of  you,  I implore  you  ! ” 

Upon  the  pavement  she  was  hustled  by  the  mob,  the  surg- 
ing masses  roared  her  name  and  accompanied  it  with  every 
species  of  insulting  epithet ; they  thronged  after  the  carriage, 
hooting,  jeering,  cursing,  and  even  assailing  the  vehicle  with 
missiles.  A stone  crushed  through  a blind,  wounding  Laura’s 
forehead,  and  so  stunning  her  that  she  hardly  knew  what 
further  transpired  during  her  flight. 

It  was  long  before  her  faculties  were  wholly  restored,  and 
then  she  found  herself  lying  on  the  floor  by  a sofa  in  her 
own  sitting-room,  and  alone.  So  she  supposed  she  must  have 
sat  down  upon  the  sofa  and  afterward  fallen.  She  raised  her- 
self up,  with  difficulty,  for  the  air  was  chilly  and  her  limbs 
were  stiff.  She  turned  up  the  gas  and  sought  the  glass.  She 
hardly  knew  herself,  so  worn  and  old  she  looked,  and  so 
marred  with  blood  were  her  features.  The  night  was  far 
spent,  and  a dead  stillness  reigned.  She  sat  down  by  her 
table,  leaned  her  elbows  upon  it  and  put  her  face  in  her 
hands. 

Her  thoughts  wandered  back  over  her  old  life  again  and 
her  tears  flowed  unrestrained. — Her  pride  was  humbled,  her 
spirit  w^as  broken.  Her  memory  found  but  one  resting  place  ; 
it  lingered  about  her  young  girlhood  with  a caressing  regret ; 
it  dwelt  upon  it  as  the  one  brief  interval  in  her  life  that 
bore  no  curse.  She  saw  herself  again  in  the  budding  graco 
of  her  twelve  years,  decked  in  her  dainty  pride  of  ribbons, 
consorting  with  the  bees  and  the  butterflies,  believing  in- 
fairies,  holding  confidential  converse  with  the  flowers,  busy- 
ing herself  all  day  long  with  airy  trifles  that  were  as  weighty 


RETROSPECTION. 


REPENTANCE  AND  DEATH. 


551 


to  her  as  the  affairs  that  tax  the  brains  of  diplomats  and 
emperors.  She  was  without  sin,  then,  and  unacquainted  with 
grief ; the  world  was  full  of  sunshine  and  her  heart  was  full 
of  music.  From  that — to  this  ! 

If  I could  only  die ! ” she  said.  If  I could  only  go 
back,  and  be  as  I was  then,  for  one  hour — and  hold  my 
father’s  hand  in  mine  again,  and  see  all  the  household  about 
me,  as  in  that  old  innocent  time — and  then  die ! My  God, 
I am  humbled,  my  pride  is  all  gone,  my  stubborn  heart 
repents — have  pity  ! ” 

When  the  spring  morning  dawned,  the  form  still  sat  there, 
the  elbows  resting  upon  the  table  and  the  face  upon  the 
hands.  All  day  long  the  figure  sat  there,  the  sunshine 
enriching  its  costly  raiment  and  hashing  from  its  jewels; 
twilight  came,  and  presently  the  stars,  but  still  the  figure 
riimained ; the  moon  found  it  there  still,  and  framed  the 
picture  with  the  shadow  of  the  window  sash,  and  fiooded  it 
with  mellow  light ; by  and  by  the  darkness  swallowed  it  up, 
and  later  the  gray  dawn  revealed  it  again  ; the  new  day  grew 
toward  its  prime,  and  still  the  forlorn  presence  was  undis- 
tiiirbed. 

But  now  the  keepers  of  the  house  had  become  uneasy; 
their  periodical  knockings  still  finding  no  response,  they 
burst  open  the  door. 

The  jury  of  inquest  found  that  death  had  resulted  from 
heart  disease,  and  was  instant  and  painless.  That  was  aU. 
Merely  heart  disease. 


CHAPTER  LXI. 

Han  ager  ikke  ilde  som  veed  at  vende. 

Wanna  unyanpi  kta.  Niye  de  kta  he  ? 

lajn  Oaye^  vol.  i,  no.  V. 

CLAY  HAWKINS,  years  gone  by,  had  yielded,  after 
many  a struggle,  to  the  migratory  and  speculative  in- 
stinct of  our  age  and  our  people,  and  had  wandered  further 
and  further  westward  upon  trading  ventures.  Settling  final- 
ly in  Melbourne,  Australia,  he  ceased  to  roam,  became  a 
steady-going  substantial  merchant,  and  prospered  greatly. 
His  life  lay  beyond  the  theatre  of  this  tale. 

His  remittances  had  supported  the  Hawkins  family,  entire- 
ly, from  the  time  of  his  father’s  death  until  latterly  when 
Laura  by  her  efforts  in  Washington  had  been  able  to  assist  in 
this  work.  Clay  was  away  on  a long  absence  in  some  of  the  east- 
ward islands  when  Laura’s  troubles  began,  trying  (and  almost 
in  vain,)  to  arrange  certain  interests  which  had  become  dis- 
ordered through  a dishonest  agent,  and  consequently  he  knew 
nothing  of  the  murder  till  he  returned  and  read  his  letters 
and  papers.  His  natural  impulse  was  to  hurry  to  the  States 
and  save  his  sister  if  possible,  for  he  loved  her  with  a deep 
and  abiding  affection. — His  business  was  so  crippled  now,  and 
so  deranged,  that  to  leave  it  would  be  ruin  ; therefore  he  sold 
out  at  a sacrifice  that  left  him  considerably  reduced  in  worldly 
possessions,  and  began  his  voyage  to  San  Francisco.  Arrived, 

00^ 


APPEARANCE  OF  WASHINGTON  HAWKINS. 


653 


there,  he  perceived  by  the  newspapers  that  the  trial  was  near 
its  close.  At  Salt  Lake  later  telegrams  told  him  of  the  ac- 
quittal, and  his  gratitude  was  boundless — so  boundless,  in- 
deed, that  sleep  was  driven  from  his  eyes  by  the  pleasurable 
excitement  almost  as  effectually  as  preceding  weeks  of  anxiety 
had  done  it.  He  shaped  his  course  straight  for  Hawkeye, 
now,  and  his  meeting  with  his  mother  and  the  rest  of  the 
household  was  joyful — albeit  he  had  been  away  so  long  that 
he  seemed  almost  a stranger  in  his  own  home. 

But  the  greetings  and  congratulations  were  hardly  finished 
when  all  the  journals  in  the  land  clamored  the  news  of  Laura’s 
miserable  death.  Mrs.  Hawkins  was  prostrated  by  this  last 
blow,  and  it  was  well  that  Clay  was  at  her  side  to  stay  her 
with  comforting  words  and  take  upon  himself  the  ordering  of 
the  household  with  its  burden  of  labors  and  cares. 

Washington  Hawkins  had  scarcely  more  than  entered  upon 
that  decade  which  carries  one  to  the  full  blossom  of  manhood 
which  we  term  the  beginning  of  middle  age,  and  yet  a brief 
sojourn  at  the  capital  of  the  nation  had  made  him  old.  His 
hair  was  already  turning  gray  when  the  late  session  of  Con- 
gress began  its  sittings ; it  grew  grayer  still,  and  rapidly,  after 
the  memorable  day  that  saw  Laura  p;-oclaimed  a murderess ; 
it  waxed  grayer  and  still  grayer  during  the  lagging  suspense 
that  succeeded  it  and  after  the  crash  wliich  ruined  his  last 
hope — the  failure  of  his  bill  in  the  Senate  and  the  destruction 
of  its  champion,  Dilworthy.  A few  days  later,  when  he  stood 
uncovered  wliile  the  last  prayer  was  pronounced  over  Laura’s 
grave,  his  hair  was  whiter  and  his  face  hardly  less  old  than 
the  venerable  minister’s  wdiose  words  were  sounding  in  his 
ears. 

A week  after  this,  he  was  sitting  in  a double-bedded  room 
in  a cheap  boarding  house  in  Washington,  with  Col.  Sellers. 
The  twm  had  been  living  together  lately,  and  this  mutual 
cavern  of  theirs  the  Colonel  sometimes  referred  to  as  their 
premises ” and  sometimes  as  their  ‘‘apartments” — more 
particularly  when  conversing  with  persons  outside.  A can- 


654 


READY  FOR  A START. 


vas-covered  modern  trunk,  marked  “ G.  W.  H.”  stood  on  end 
by  the  door,  strapped  and  ready  for  a journey;  on  it  lay  a 
small  morocco  satchel,  also  marked  G.  W.  H.’^  There  was 


GOOD  BYE  TO  WASHINGTON. 


another  trunk  close  by — a worn,  and  scarred,  and  ancient  hair- 
relic,  with  “ B.  S.”  wrought  in  brass  nails  on  its  top ; on  it 
lay  a pair  of  saddle-bags  that  probably  knew  more  about  the 
last  century  than  they  could  tell.  Washington  got  up  and 
walked  the  floor  a while  in  a restless  sort  of  way,  and  finally 
was  about  to  sit  down  on  the  hair  trunk. 

‘‘  Stop,  don’t  sit  down  on  that ! ” exclaimed  the  Colonel. 
“ There,  now — that’s  all  right — the  chair’s  better.  I couldn’t 
get  another  trunk  like  that — not  another  like  it  in  America,  I 
reckon.” 

“I  am  afraid  not,”  said  Washington,  with  a faint  attempt 
at  a smile. 

“No  indeed ; the  man  is  dead  that  made  that  trunk  and 
that  saddle-bags.” 


DIFFERENCE  BETWEEN  STEALING  AND  TAKING.  555 

Are  his  great-grand-children  still  living?”  said  Washing- 
ton, with  levity  only  in  the  words,  not  in  the  tone. 

“Well,  I don’t  know — I hadn’t  thought  of  that — but  any- 
way they  can’t  make  trunks  and  saddle-bags  like  that,  if  they 
are — no  man  can,”  said  the  Colonel  with  honest  simplicity, 
“ Wife  didn’t  like  to  see  me  going  oft  with  that  trunk — she 
said  it  was  nearly  certain  to  be  stolen.” 

“ Why?” 

“ Why  ? Why,  aren’t  trunks  always  being  stolen  ? ” 

“Well,  yes — some  kinds  of  trunks  are.” 

“ Very  well,  then  ; this  is  some  kind  of  a trunk — and  an 
almighty  rare  kind,  too.” 

“ Yes,  I believe  it  is.” 

“Well,  then,  why  shouldn’t  a man  want  to  steal  it  if  he  got 
a chance  ? ” 

“ Indeed  I don’t  know. — Why  should  he  ? ” 

“ Washington,  I never  heard  anybody  talk  like  you.  Sup- 
pose you  were  a thief,  and  that  trunk  was  lying  around  and 
nobody  watching — wouldn’t  you  steal  it  ? Come,  now, 
answer  fair — wouldn’t  you  steal  it  ? ” 

“Well,  now,  since  you  corner  me,  I don’t  know  but  I 
would  take  it, — but  I vrouldn’t  consider  it  stealing.” 

“ You  wouldn’t ! Well,  that  beats  me.  Now  what  would 
you  call  stealing  ? ” 

“ Why,  taking  property  is  stealing.” 

“ Property ! Now  what  a way  to  talk  that  is.  What  do 
you  suppose  that  trunk  is  worth  ? ” 

“ Is  it  in  good  repair  ? ” 

“ Perfect.  Hair  rubbed  off  a little,  but  the  main  structure^ 
is  perfectly  sound.” 

“ Does  it  leak  anywhere?  ” 

“ Leak  ? Do  you  want  to  carry  water  in  it  ? What  do> 
you  mean  by  does  it  leak  ? ” 

“ Why — a — do  the  clothes  fall  out  of  it  when  it  is — whea 
it  is  stationary  ? ” 

“ Confound  it,  Washington,  you  are  trying  to  make  fun  of 


'556 


THE  TENNESSEE  LANDS  AGAIN. 


me.  1 don’t  know  what  has  got  into  you  to-day ; you  act 
mighty  curious.  What  is  the  matter  with  you  ? ” 

‘‘Well,  I’ll  tell  you,  old  friend.  I am  almost  happy.  I 
am,  indeed.  It  wasn’t  Clay’s  telegram  that  hurried  me  up  so 
. and  got  me  ready  to  start  with  you.  It  was  a letter  from 
Louise.” 

“ Good  ! What  is  it  ? What  does  she  say  ? ” 

“ She  says  come  home — her  father  has  consented,  at  last.” 

“ My  boy,  I want  to  congratulate  you ; I want  to  shake 
you  by  the  hand  ! It’s  a long  turn  that  has  no  lane  at  the  end 
of  it,  as  the  proverb  says,  or  somehow  that  way.  You’ll  be 
happy  yet,  and  Beriah  Sellers  will  be  there  to  see,  thank 
God ! ” • ' 

“ I believe  it.  General  Boswell  is  pretty  nearly  a poor 
man,  now.  The  railroad  that  was  going  to  build  up  Hawk- 
'^eye  made  short  work  of  him,  along  with  the  rest.  He  is’nt 
so  opposed  to  a son-in-law  without  a fortune,  now.” 

“ Without  a fortune,  indeed ! Why  that  Tennessee 
Band—” 

“ Never  mind  the  Tennessee  Land,  Colonel.  I am  done 
-with  that,  forever  and  forever — ” 

“Why  no  ! You  can’t  mean  to  say — ” 

“ My  father,  away  back  yonder,  years  ago,  bought  it  for  a 
blessing  for  his  children,  and — ” 

“ Indeed  he  did  ! Si  Hawkins  said  to  me — ” 

“ It  proved  a curse  to  him  as  long  as  he  lived,  and  never  a 
course  like  it  was  inflicted  upon  any  man’s  heirs — ” 

“ I’m  bound  to  say  there’s  more  or  less  truth — ” 

“ It  began  to  cuive  me  when  I was  a baby,  and  it  has  cursed 
every  hour  of  my  life  to  this  day — ” 

“ Lord,  lord,  but  it’s  so  ! Time  and  again  my  wife — ” 

“ I depended  on  it  all  through  my  boyhood  and  never  tried 
do  do  an  honest  stroke  of  work  for  my  living — ” 

“ Bight  again — but  then  you — ” 

“I  have  chased  it  years  and  years  as  children  chase  butter- 
.flies.  Wn  might  all  have  been  prosperous,  now;  we  might 


THE  COLONEL’S  TRUE  CALLING. 


557 


all  have  been  happy,  all  these  heart-breaking  years,  if  we  had 
accepted  our  poverty  at  first  and  gone  contentedly  to  work 
and  built  up  our  own  weal  by  our  own  toil  and  sweat — ” 

It’s  so,  it’s  so  ; bless  my  soul,  how  often  I’ve  told  Si 
Hawkins — ” 

Instead  of  that,  we  have  suffered  more  than  the  damned 
themselves  suffer!  I loved  my  father,  and  I honor  his 
memory  and  recognize  his  good  intentions ; but  I grieve  for 
his  mistaken  ideas  of  conferring  happiness  upon  his  children. 
I am  going  to  begin  my  life  over  again,  and  begin  it  and  end 
it  with  good  solid  work  1 I’ll  leave  my  children  no  Tennes- 
see Land  1” 

Spoken  like  a man,  sir,  spoken  like  a man  I Your  hand, 
again  my  boy  1 And  always  remember  that  when  a word  of 
advice  from  Beriah  Sellers  can  help,  it  is  at  your  service.  I’m 
going  to  begin  again,  too  !” 

Indeed  1” 

Yes,  sir.  I’ve  seen  enough  to  show  me  where  my  mis- 
take was.  The  law  is  what  I was  born  for.  I shall  begin 
the  study  of  the  law.  Heavens  and  earth,  but  that  Braham’s 
a wonderful  man — a wondp^J^>l-^-Tafii  sl!  Such  a head  1 And 
such  a way  with  him\-  ^ I could  seethat  he  was  jealous 
of  me.  The  little  licks  I golf'd!  lii  ^^"«course  of  my  argument 
before  the  jury — ” 

“ Your  argument  1 Why,  you  were  a witness.” 

“ Oh,  yes,  to  the  popular  eye,  to  the  popular  eye — but  I 
knew  when  I was  dropping  information  and  when  I was  let- 
ting drive  at  the  court  with  an  insidious  argument.  But  the 
court  knew  it,  bless  you,  and  weakened  every  time  ! And 
Braham  knew  it.  I just  reminded  him  of  it  in  a quiet  way, 
and  its  final  result,  and  he  said  in  a whisper,  ^ You  did  it, 
Colonel,  you  did  it,  sir — but  keep  it  mum  for  my  sake ; and  I’ll 
tell  you  what  you  do,’  says  he,  ^ you  go  into  the  law.  Col. 
Sellers — go  into  the  law,  sir ; that’s  your  native  element  1’  And 
into  the  law  the  subscriber  is  going.  There’s  worlds  of  money 
in  it ! — whole  worlds  of  money ! Practice  first  in  Hawkeye,  then 


558 


TO  PAY  OR  NOT  TO  PAY. 


in  Jefferson,  then  in  St.  Louis,  then  in  New  York ! In  the 
metropolis  of  the  western  world  ! Climb,  and  climb,  and 
climb — and  wind  up  on  the  Nz^preme  bench.  Beriaii  Sellers, 
Chief  Justice  of  the  Ni^preme  Court  of  the  United  States, 
sir  ! A made  man  for  all  time  and  eternity  ! That’s  the  way 
I block  it  out,  sir — and  it’s  as  clear  as  day — clear  as  the  rosy 
morn !”  • 

Washington  had  heard  little  of  this.  The  first  reference  to 
Laura’s  trial  had  brought  the  old  dejection  to  his  face  again, 
and  he  stood  gazing  out  of  the  window  at  nothing,  lost  in 
reverie. 

There  was  a knock — the  postman  handed  in  a letter.  It 
was  from  Obedstown,  East  Tennessee,  and  was  for  Washing- 
ton. He  opened  it.  There  was  a note  saying  that  enclosed 
he  would  please  find  a bill  for  the  current  year’s  taxes  on  the 
75,000  acres  of  Tennessee  Land  belonging  to  the  estate  of 
Silas  Hawkins,  deceased,  and  added  that  the  money  must  be 
paid  within  sixty  days  or  the  land  would  be  sold  at  public 
auction  for  the  taxes,  as  provided  by  law.  The  bill  was  for 
$180 — something  more  than  twice  the  market  value  of  the 
land,  perhaps. 

Washington  heiikihcd  oT^uxhts  flitted  through  his  mind. 
The  old  instinct  cane  upon  hirn^'^cu  cling  to  the  land  just  a 
little  longer  and  give  it  one  more  chance.  He  wnlked  the 
floor  feverishly,  his  mind  tortured  by  indecision.  Presently 
he  stopped,  took  out  his  pocket  book  and  counted  hismoneyo 
Two  hundred  and  thirty  dollars — it  was  all  he  had  in  the 
world. 

One  hundred  and  eighty from  two  hundred  and 

thirty,”  he  said  to  himself.  Fifty  left It  is  enough 

to  get  me  home Shall  I do  it,  or  shall  I not  ? I 

wish  I had  somebody  to  decide  for  me.” 

The  pocket  book  lay  open  in  his  hand,  with  Louise’s  small 
letter  in  view.  His  eye  fell  upon  that,  and  it  decided  him. 

“ It  shall  go  for  taxes,”  he  said,  ‘‘  and  never  tempt  me  or 
mine  any  more !” 


THE  CURSE  ENDED. 


559 


He  opened  tlie  window  and  stood  there  tearing  the  tax 
bill  to  bits  and  watching  the  breeze  waft  them  away,  till  all 
were  gone. 

‘‘  The  spell  is  broken,  the  life-long  curse  is  ended  !”  he  said. 
Let  us  go.” 

The  baggage  wagon  had  arrived ; five  minutes  later  the 


THE  CURSE  ENDED. 


two  friends  were  mounted  upon  their  luggage  in  it,  and 
rattling  off  toward  the  station,  the  Colonel  endeavoring  to 
sing  “ Homeward  Bound,”  a song  whose  words  he  knew, 
but  whose  tune,  as  he  rendered  it,  was  a trial  to  auditors. 


CHAPTEE  LXIL 


Gedi  kanadiben  tsannawa. 

—La  xalog,  la  xamaih  mi-x-ul  nu  qiza  u quial  gib,  u qn’ial  agab  ? 

Rabincd-Aehi. 

Philip  STEPLIHG’S  circumstances  were  becoming* 
straightened.  The  prospect  was  gloomy.  His  long 
siege  of  unproductive  labor  was  beginning  to  tell  upon  his 
spirits ; but  what  told  still  more  upon  them  was  the  undenia- 
ble fact  that  the  promise  of  ultimate  success  diminished  every 
day,  now.  That  is  to  say,  the  tunnel  had  reached  a point  in 
the  hill  which  was  considerably  beyond  where  the  coal  vein 
should  pass  (according  to  all  his  calculations)  if  there  were  a 
coal  vein  there  ; and  so,  every  foot  that  the  tunnel  now  pro- 
gressed seemed  to  carry  it  further  away  from  the  object  of 
the  search. 

Sometimes  he  ventured  to  hope  that  he  had  made  a mis- 
take in  estimating  the  direction  which  the  vein  should  natu- 
rally take  after  crossing  the  valley  and  entering  the  hill. 
Upon  such  occasions  he  would  go  into  the  nearest  mine  on 
the  vein  he  was  hunting  for,  and  once  more  get  the  bearings 
of  the  deposit  and  mark  out  its  probable  course  ; but  the  re- 
sult was  the  same  every  time;  his  tunnel  had  manifestly 
pierced  beyond  the  natural  point  of  junction ; and  then  his 
spirits  fell  a little  lower.  His  men  had  already  lost  faith,  and 
he  often  overheard  them  saying  it  was  perfectly  plain  that 
there  was  no  coal  in  the  hill. 

Foremen  and  laborers  from  neighboring  mines,  and  no  end 

560 


THE  INFALLIBLE  SIGN. 


561 


of  experienced  loafers  from  the  village,  visited  the  tunnel  from 
time  to  time,  and  their  verdicts  were  always  the  same  and 
always  disheartening — “I^o  coal  in  that  hill.’’  Now  and  then 
Philip  would  sit  down  and  think  it  all  over  and  wonder  what 
the  mystery  meant ; then  he  would  go  into  the  tunnel  and  ask 
the  men  .if  there  were  no  signs  yet  ? None — always  ‘‘  none.” 
He  would  bring  out  a piece  of  rock  and  examine  it,  and  say 
to  himself,  “ It  is  limestone — it  has  crinoids  and  corals  in  it 
— the  rock  is  right.”  Then  he  would  throw  it  down  with  a 
sigh,  and  say,  ‘‘  But  that  is  nothing ; where  coal  is,  limestone 
with  these  fossils  in  it  is  pretty  certain  to-  lie  against  its  foot 
casing;  but  it  does  not  necessarily  follow  that  where  this  pe- 
culiar rock  is,  coal  must  lie  above  it  or  beyond  it ; this  sign 
is  not  sufficient.” 

The  thought  usually  followed : — “ There  is  one  infallible 
sign — if  I could  only  strike  that ! ” 

Three  or  four  times  in  as  many  weeks  he  said  to  himself, 
^‘Am  I a visionary  ? I must  be  a visionary ; everybody  is  in 
these  days ; everybody  chases  butterflies : everybody  seeks 
sudden  fortune  and  will  not  lay  one  up  by  slow  toil.  This 
is  not  right,  I will  discharge  the  men  and  go  at  some  honest 
work.  There  is  no  coal  here.  What  a fool  I have  been ; I 
will  give  it  up.” 

But  he  never  could  do  it.  A half  hour  of  profound  think- 
ing always  followed ; and  at  the  end  of  it  he  was  sure  to  get 
up  and  straighten  himself  and  say  : “ There  is  coal  there ; I 
will  not  give  it  up ; and  coal  or  no  coal  I will  drive  the  tun- 
nel clear  through  the  hill ; I will  not  surrender  while  I am 
alive.” 

He  never  thought  of  asking  Mr.  Montague  for  more  money. 
He  said  there  was  now  but  one  chance  of  finding  coal  against 
nine  hundred  and  ninety  nine  that  he  would  not  find  it,  and 
BO  it  would  be  wrong  in  him  to  make  the  request  and  foolish 
in  Mr.  Montague  to  grant  it. 

He  had  been  working  three  shifts  of  men.  Finally,  the 
settling  of  a weekly  account  exhausted  his  means.  He  could 
36- 


562 


A GENEROUS  OFFER. 


not  afford  to  run  in  debt,  and  therefore  he  gave  the  men  their 
discharge.  They  came  into  his  cabin  presently,  where  he  sat 
with  his  elbows  on  his  knees  and  his  chin  in  his  hands,  the 
picture  of  discouragement  and  their  spokesman  said : 

‘‘  Mr.  Sterling,  when  Tim  was  down  a week  with  his  fall 
you  kept  him  on  half  wages  and  it  was  a mighty  help  to  his 


A PARTING  BLAST  OFFERED. 


family  ; whenever  any  of  us  was  in  trouble  you’ve  done 
what  you  could  to  help  us  out ; you’ve  acted  fair  and  square 
with  us  every  time,  and  I reckon  we  are  men  and  know  a 
man  when  we  see  him.  We  haven’t  got  any  faith  in  that 
hill,  but  we  have  a respect  for  a man  that’s  got  the  pluck 
that  you’ve  showed ; youv’e  fought  a good  fight,  with  every- 
body agin  you  and  if  we  had  grub  to  go  on,  I’m  d — d if  we 
wouldn’t  stand  by  you  till  the  cows  come  home ! That  is 
what  the  boys  say.  Now  we  want  to  put  in  one  parting  blast 
for  luck.  We  want  to  work  three  days  more  ; if  we  don’t  find 
anything,  we  won’t  bring  in  no  bill  against  you.  That  is 
what  we’ve  come  to  say.” 

Philip  was  touched.  If  he  had  had  money  enough  to  buy 
three  days’  “ grub”  he  would  have  accepted  the  generous  offer, 


THE  HERMIT’S  LIFE  REALIZED. 


563 


bnt  as  it  was,  lie  could  not  consent  to  be  less  magnanimous 
than  the  men,  and  so  he  declined  in  a manly  speech,  shook 
hands  all  around  and  resumed  his  solitary  communings. 
The  men  went  back  to  the  tunnel  and  “ put  in  a parting 
blast  for  luck  ” anyhow.  They  did  a full  day’s  work  and 
then  took  their  leave.  They  called  at  his  cabin  and  gave 
him  good-bye,  but  were  not  able  to  tell  him  their  day’s  eflbrt 
had  given  things  a more  promising  look. 

The  next  day  Philip  sold  all  the  tools  but  two  or  three  sets ; 
he  also  sold  one  of  the  now  deserted  cabins  as  old  lumber, 
together  with  its  domestic  wares,  and  made  up  his  mind  that 
he  would  buy  provisions  with  the  trifle  of  money  thus  gained 
and  continue  his  work  alone.  About  the  middle  of  the  after- 
noon he  put  on  his  roughest  clothes  and  went  to  the  tunnel. 
He  lit  a candle  and  groped  his  way  in.  Presently  he  heard 
the  sound  of  a pick  or  a drill,  and  wondered  what  it  meant. 
A spark  of  light  now  appeared  in  the  far  end  of  the  tunnel, 
and  when  he  arrived  there  he  found  the  man  Tim  at  work. 
Tim  said : 

‘‘  I’m  to  have  a job  in  the  Golden  Brier  mine  by  and  by — 
in  a week  or  ten  days — and  I’m  going  to  work  here  till  then. 
A man  might  as  well  be  at  some  thing,  and  besides  I consider 
that  I owe  you  what  you  paid  me  when  I was  laid  up.” 

Philip  said.  Oh,  no,  he  didn’t  owe  anything ; but  Tim 
persisted,  and  then  Philip  said  he  had  a little  provision,  now, 
and  would  share.  So  for  several  days  Philip  held  the  drill  and 
Tim  did  the  striking.  At  first  Philip  was  impatient  to  see 
the  result  of  every  blast,  and  was  always  back  and  peering 
among  the  smoke  the  moment  after  the  explosion.  But 
there  was  never  any  encouraging  result ; and  therefore  he 
finally  lost  almost  all  interest,  and  hardly  troubled  himself 
to  inspect  results  at  all.  He  simply  labored  on,  stubbornly 
and  with  little  hope. 

Tim  staid  with  him  till  the  last  moment,  and  then  took  up 
his  job  at  the  Golden  Brier,  apparently  as  depressed  by  the 
continued  barrenness  of  their  mutual  labors  as  Philip  was 


564 


DISCOUEAGED. 


himseK.  After  that,  Philip  fought  his  battle  alone,  day  after 
day,  and  slow  work  it  was  ; he  could  scarcely  see  that  he  made 
any  progress. 

Late  one  afternoon  he  finished  drilling  a hole  which  he  had 
been  at  work  at  for  more  than  two  ho-urs ; he  swabbed  it  out^ 
and  poured  in  the  powder  and  inserted  the  fuse ; then  filled 
up  the  rest  of  the  hole  with  dirt  and  small  fragments  of  stone ; 
tamped  it  down  firmly,  touched  his  candle  to  the  fuse,  and 


THE  LAST  BLAST. 


ran.  By  and  by  the  dull  report  came,  and  he  was  about  to 
walk  back  mechanically  and  see  what  was  accomplished ; but 
he  halted ; presently  turned  on  his  heel  and  thought,  rather 
than  said : 

‘‘1^0,  this  is  useless,  this  is  absurd.  If  I found  an-ything 
it  would  only  be  one  of  those  little  aggravating  seams  of 
coal  which  doesn’t  mean  anything,  and — .” 

By  this  time  he  was  walking  out  of  the  tunnel.  Hij 
thought  ran  on : 


A JOYFUL  SUKPKISE. 


565 


am  conquered I am  out  of  provisions,  out  of 

money I have  got  to  give  it  up All  this  hard  work 

lost ! But  I am  not  conquered ! I will  go  and  work  for 
money,  and  come  back  and  have  another  fight  with  fate.  Ah 
me,  it  may  be  years,  it  may  be  years.” 

Arrived  at  the  mouth  of  the  tunnel,  he  threw  his  coat  upon 
the  ground,  sat  down  on  a stone,  and  his  eye  sought  the  west- 
ering sun  and  dwelt  upon  the  charming  landscape  which 
stretched  its  woody  ridges,  wave  upon  wave,  to  the  golden 
horizon. 

Something  was  taking  place  at  his  feet  which  did  not  attract 
his  attention. 

His  reverie  continued,  and  its  burden  grew  more  and  more 
gloomy.  Presently  he  rose  up  and  cast  a look  far  away 
toward  the  valley,  and  his  thoughts  took  a new  direction  : 

‘‘  There  it  is ! How  good  it  looks ! But  down  there  is  not 
up  here.  Well,  I will  go  home  and  pack  up — there  is  nothing 
else  to  do.” 

He  moved  off  moodily  toward  his  cabin.  He  had  gone 
some  distance  before  he  thought  of  his  coat ; then  he  was 
about  to  turn  back,  but  he  smiled  at  the  thought,  and  con- 
tinued his  journey — such  a coat  as  that  could  be  of  little  use 
in  a civilized  land.  A little  further  on,  he  remembered  that 
there  were  some  papers  of  value  in  one  of  the  pockets  of  the 
relic,  and  then  with  a petulant  ejaculation  he  turned  back 
picked  up  the  coat  and  put  it  on. 

He  made  a dozen  steps,  and  then  stopped  very  suddenly. 
He  stood  still  a moment,  as  one  who  is  trying  to  believe  some- 
thing and  cannot.  He  put  a hand  up  over  his  shoulder  and 
felt  his  back,  and  a great  thrill  shot  through  him.  He  grasped 
the  skirt  of  the  coat  impulsively  and  another  thrill  followed. 
He  snatched  the  coat  from  his  back,  glanced  at  it,  threw  it 
from  him  and  flew  back  to  the  tunnel.  He  sought  the  spot 
where  the  coat  had  lain — he  had  to  look  close,  for  the  light 
was  waning—  then  to  make  sure,  he  put  his  hand  to  the  ground 
and  a little  stream  of  water  swept  against  his  fingers : 


566 


FOUND  AT  LAST, 


‘‘  Thank  God,  I’ve  struck  it  at  last !” 

He  lit  a candle  and  ran  into  the  tunnel ; he  picked  up  a 
piece  of  rubbish  cast  out  by  the  last  blast,  and  said : 

“ This  clayey  stuff  is  what  I’ve  longed  for — I know  what  is 
behind  it.” 

He  swung  his  pick  with  hearty  good  will  till  long  after  the 


STRUCK  IT  AT  LAST. 


darkness  had  gathered  upon  the  earth,  and  when  he  trudged 
home  at  length  he  knew  he  had  a coal  vein  and  that  it  was 
seven  feet  thick  from  wall  to  wall. 

He  found  a yellow  envelop  lying  on  his  rickety  table,  and 
recognized  that  it  was  of  a family  sacred  to  the  transmissiou 
of  telegrams. 

He  opened  it,  read  it,  crushed  it  in  his  hand  and  threw  it 
down.  It  simply  said  : 

“ Buth  is  very  ill.” 


CHAPTER  LXIIT. 

Alaila  pomaikai  kaua,  ola  na  iwi  iloka  o ko  kaua  mau  la  elemakule. 

Laieikawai^  9. 

ZLaAMAMo  - ufkX^vS  jAlkSkai  joo^o 

IT  was  evening  when  Philip  took  the  cars  at  the  Ilium 
station.  The  news  of  his  success  had  preceded  him,  and 
while  he  waited  for  the  train,  he  was  the  center  of  a group  of 
eager  questioners,  who  asked  him  a hundred  things  about  the 
mine,  and  magnified  his  good  fortune.  There  was  no  mis- 
take this  time. 

Philip,  in  luck,  had  become  suddenly  a person  of  consider- 
ation, whose  speech  was  freighted  with  meaning,  whose  looks 
were  all  significant.  The  words  of  the  proprietor  of  a rich 
coal  mine  have  a golden  sound,  and  his  common  sayings  are 
repeated  as  if  they  were  solid  wisdom. 

Philip  wished  to  be  alone  ; his  good  fortune  at  this  moment 
seemed  an  empty  mockery,  one  of  those  sarcasms  of  fate, 
such  as  that  which  spreads  a dainty  banquet  for  the  man  who 
has  1 no  appetite.  He  had  longed  for  success  principally  for 
Ruth’s  sake ; and  perhaps  now,  at  this  very  moment  of  his 
triumph,  she  was  dying. 

“ Shust  what  I said.  Mister  Sderling,”  the  landlord  of  the 
Ilium  hotel  kept  repeating.  “ I dold  Jake  Schmidt  he  find 
him  dere  shust  so  sure  as  noting.” 

567 


568 


PHILIP  LEAVES  ILIUM. 


“You  ought  to  have  taken  a share,  Mr.  Dusenheimer,”  said 
Philip. 

“Yaas,  I know.  But  d’old  woman,  she  say  ^ You  sticks  to 


THE  RICH  PROPRIETOR. 


your  pisiness.  So  I sticks  to  ’em.  Und  I makes  noting.  Dat 
Mister  Prierly,  he  don’t  never  come  back  here  no  more,  ain’t 
it?” 

“ Why  ? ” asked  Philip. 

“ Yell,  dere  is  so  many  peers,  und  so  many  oder  dhrinks,  I 
got  ’em  all  set  down,  ven  he  coomes  back.” 

It  was  a long  night  for  Philip,  and  a restless  one.  At  any 
other  time  the  swing  of  the  cars  would  have  lulled  him  to 
sleep,  and  the  rattle  and  clank  of  wheels  and  rails,  the  roar  of 
the  whirling  iron  would  have  only  been  cheerful  reminders 
of  swift  and  safe  travel.  Now  they  were  voices  of  warning 
and  taunting ; and  instead  of  going  rapidly  the  train  seemed 
to  crawl  at  a snail’s  pace.  And  it  not  only  crawled,  but  it 
frequently  stopped ; and  when  it  stopped  it  stood  dead  still, 


A LONG  NIGHT. 


569 


land  there  was  an  omiDOus  silence.  Was  anything  the  matter, 
he  wondered.  Only  a station  probably.  Perhaps,  he  thought, 
a telegraphic  station.  And  then  he  listened  eagerly.  Would 
the  conductor  open  the  door  and  ask  for  Philip  Sterling,  and 
hand  him  a fatal  dispatch  ? 

How  long  they  seemed  to  wait.  And  then  slowly  begin- 
ning to  move,  they  were  off  again,  shaking,  pounding,  scream- 
ing through  the  night.  He  drew  his  curtain  from  time  to 
time  and  looked  out.  There  was  the  lurid  sky  line  of  the 
wooded  range  along  the  base  of  which  they  were  crawling. 
There  was  the  Susquehannah,  gleaming  in  the  moon-light. 
There  was  a stretch  of  level  valley  with  silent  farm  houses, 
the  occupants  all  at  rest,  without  trouble,  without  anxiety. 
There  was  a church,  a graveyard,  a mill,  a village ; and  now, 
without  pause  or  fear,  the  train  had  mounted  a trestle-work 
liigh  in  air  and  was  creeping  along  the  top  of  it  while  a swift 
torrent  foamed  a hundred  feet  below. 

What  would  the  morning  bring  ? Even  while  he  was  fly- 
ing to  her,  her  gentle  spirit  might  have  gone  on  another 
:flight,  whither  he  could  not  follow  her.  He  was  full  of  fore- 
boding. He  fell  at  length  into  a restless  doze.  There  was  a 
noise  in  his  ears  as  of  a rushing  torrent  when  a stream  is 
■swollen  by  a freshet  in  the  spring.  It  was  like  the  breaking 
up  of  life ; he  was  struggling  in  the  consciousness  of  coming 
■death  : when  Ruth  stood  by  his  side,  clothed  in  white,  with 
a face  like  that  of  an  angel,  radiant,  smiling,  pointing  to  the 
sky,  and  saying,  Come.”  He  awoke  with  a cry—  ^he  train 
was  roaring  through  a bridge,  and  it  shot  out  into  daylight. 

When  morning  came  the  train  was  industriously  toiling 
along  through  the  fat  lands  of  Lancaster,  with  its  broad  farms 
of  corn  and  wheat,  its  mean  houses  of  stone,  its  vast  barns 
and  granaries,  built  as  if  for  storing  the  riches  of  Heliogab- 
alus.  Then  came  the  smiling  fields  of  Chester,  with  their 
English  green,  and  soon  the  county  of  Philadelphia  itself, 
and  the  increasing  signs  of  the  approach  to  a great  city.  Long 
trains  of  coal  cars,  laden  and  unladen,  stood  upon  sidings* 


570 


THE  SICK  CHAMBER. 


the  tracks  of  other  roads  were  crossed ; the  smoke  of  other 
locomotives  was  seen  on  parallel  lines ; factories  multiplied ; 
streets  appeared  ; the  noise  of  a busy  city  began  to  fill  the  air ; 
and  with  a slower  and  slower  clank  on  the  connecting  rails 
and  interlacing  switches  the  train  rolled  into  the  station  and 
stood  still. 

It  was  a hot  August  morning.  The  broad  streets  glowed 
in  the  sun,  and  the  white-shuttered  houses  stared  at  the  hot 
thoroughfares  like  closed  bakers’ -ovens  set  along  the  high- 
way. Philip  was  oppressed  with  the  heavy  air ; the  sweltering 
city  lay  as  in  a swoon.  Taking  a street  car,  he  rode  away  to 
the  northern  part  of  the  city,  the  newer  portion,  formerly  tho 
district  of  Spring  Garden,  for  in  this  the  Boltons  now  lived, 
in  a small  brick  house,  befitting  their  altered  fortunes. 

He  could  scarcely  restrain  his  impatience  when  he  came  in 
sight  of  the  house.  The  window  shutters  were  not  “ bowed 
thank  God,  for  that.  Buth  was  still  living,  then.  He  ran 
up  the  steps  and  rang.  Mrs.  Bolton  met  him  at  the  door. 

“ Thee  is  very  welcome,  Philip.” 

‘‘And  Euth?” 

“ She  is  very  ill,  but  quieter  than  she  has  been,  and  the 
fever  is  a little  abating.  The  most  dangerous  time  will  be 
when  the  fever  leaves  her.  The  doctor  fears  she  will  not 
have  strength  enough  to  rally  from  it.  Yes,  thee  can  see 
her.” 

Mrs.  Bolton  led  the  way  to  the  little  chamber  where  Euth 
lay.  “ Oh,”  said  her  mother,  “ if  she  were  only  in  her  cool 
and  spacious  room  in  our  old  home.  She  says  that  seems  like 
heaven.” 

Mr.  Bolton  sat  by  Euth’s  bedside,  and  he  rose  and  silently 
pressed  Philip’s  hand.  The  room  had  but  one  window  ; that 
was  wide  open  to  admit  the  air,  but  the  air  that  came  in  was 
hot  and  lifeless.  Upon  the  table  stood  a vase  of  flowers. 
Euth’s  eyes  were  closed ; her  cheeks  were  flushed  with  fever, 
and  she  moved  her  head  restlessly  as  if  in  pain. 

“Euth,”  said  her  mother,  bending  over  her,  “Philip  i# 
here.” 


THE  SICK  CIIA-MBER. 


■"■iV 

■ ' h ‘ - 


V, 


:>  ■Ji) 


-'■^"'''  •■  ’ ':  J:  . i 


•-V;  M 


X It-'i  . /ii.J  ; , 


OP  !ME  - " - 


-j'-:  h 

i'<’>.i:  ,1' 

J.:; 


'^‘P^ru  ■ 


!l 


I’  ,>  / 


PHILIP  DRAWS  RUTH  BACK  TO  LIFE. 


5T1 


Ruth’s  eyes  unclosed,  there  was  a gleam  of  recognition  in 
them,  there  was  an  attempt  at  a smile  upon  her  face,  and  she 
tried  to  raise  her  thin  hand,  as  Philip  touched  her  forehead 
with  his  lips ; and  he  heard  her  murmur, 

^‘Dear  Phil.” 

There  was  nothing  to  be  done  but  to  watch  and  wait  far 
the  cruel  fever  to  burn  itself  out.  Dr.  Longstreet  told  Philip 
that  the  fever  had  undoubtedly  been  contracted  in  the  hos- 
pital, but  it  was  not  malignant,  and  would  be  little  dangerous 
if  Ruth  were  not  so  worn  down  with  work,  or  if*  she  had  a 
less  delicate  constitution. 

“ It  is  only  her  indomitable  will  that  has  kept  her  up  for 
weeks.  And  if  that  should  leave  her  now,  there  will  be  no 
hope.  You  can  do  more  for  her  now,  sir,  than  I can?” 

‘‘  How  ?”  asked  Philip  eagerly. 

“Your  presence,  more  than  anything  else,  will  inspire  her 
with  the  desire  to  live.” 

When  the  fever  turned,  Ruth  was  in  a very  critical  con- 
dition. For  two  days  her  life  was  like  the  fluttering  of  a 
lighted  candle  in  the  wind.  Philip  was  constantly  by  her 
side,  and  she  seemed  to  be  conscious  of  his  presence,  and  to 
cling  to  him,  as  one  borne  away  by  a swift  stream  clings  to  a 
stretched-out  hand  from  the  shore.  If  he  was  absent  a mo- 
ment her  restless  eyes  sought  something  they  were  disap- 
pointed not  to  And. 

Philip  so  yearned  to  bring  her  back  to  life,  he  willed  it  so 
strongly  and  passionately,  that  his  will  appeared  to  affect  hers 
and  she  seemed  slowly  to  draw  life  from  his. 

After  two  days  of  this  struggle  with  the  grasping  enemy,, 
it  was  evident  to  Dr.  Longstreet  that  Ruth’s  will  was  be- 
ginning to  issue  its  orders  to  her  body  with  some  force,  and 
that  strength  was  slowly  coming  back.  In  another  day  there 
was  a decided  improvement.  As  Philip  sat  holding  her  weak 
hand  and  watching  the  least  sign  of  resolution  in  her  face,, 
Ruth  was  able  to  whisper, 

“ I so  want  to  live,  for  you,  Phil !” 

“ You  will,  darling,  you  must,”  said  Philip  in  a tone  of 


'572 


THE  MINE  A SUCCESS. 


.faith  and  courage  that  carried  a thrill  of  determination — of 
command — along  all  her  nerves. 

Slowly  Philip  drew  her  back  to  life.  Slowly  she  came 
back,  as  one  willing  but  well  nigh  helpless.  It  was  new  for 
Until  to  feel  this  dependence  on  another’s  nature,  to  con- 
.sciously  draw  strength  of  will  from  the  will  of  another.  It 
was  a new  but  a dear  joy,  to  be  lifted  up  and  carried  back 
into  the  happy  world,  which  was  now  all  aglow  with  the 
light  of  love ; to  be  lifted  and  carried  by  the  one  she  loved 
more  than  her  own  life. 

“ Sweetheart,”  she  said  to  Philip,  I would  not  have 
cared  to  come  back  but  for  thy  love.” 

“ Not  for  thy  profession  ?” 

“ Oh,  thee  may  be  glad  enough  of  that  some  day,  when  thy 
coal  bed  is  dug  out  and  thee  and  father  are  in  the  air  again.” 

When  Puth  was  able  to  ride  she  was  taken  into  the  coun- 
try, for  the  pure  air  was  necessary  to  her  speedy  recovery. 
The  family  went  with  her.  Philip  could  not  be  spared  from 
her  side,  and  Mr.  Bolton  had  gone  up  to  Ilium  to  look  into 
that  wonderful  coal  mine  and  to  make  arrangements  for  de- 
veloping it,  and  bringing  its  wealth  to  market.  Philip  had 
insisted  on  r?’  (•(»nveying  the  Ilium  property  to  Mr.  Bolton, 
retaining  only  the  share  originally  contemplated  for  himself, 
and  Mr.  Bolton,  therefore,  once  more  found  himself  engaged 
in  business  and  a person  of  some  consequence  in  Third  street. 
The  mine  turned  out  even  better  than  was  at  first  hoped,  and 
wmuld,  if  judiciously  managed,  be  a fortune  to  them  all.  This 
also  seemed  to  be  the  opinion  of  Mr.  Bigler,  wdio  heard  of  it 
as  soon  as  anybody,  and,  with  the  impudence  of  his  class 
called  upon  Mr.  Bolton  for  a little  aid  in  a patent  car-wheel 
he  had  bought  an  interest  in.  That  rascal.  Small,  he  said, 
had  swindled  him  out  of  all  he  had. 

Mr.  Bolton  told  him  he  was  very  sorry,  and  recommended 
him  to  sue  Small. 

Mr.  Small  also  came  with  a similar  story  about  Mr.  Bigler; 
and  Mr.  Bolton  had  the  grace  to  give  him  like  advice.  And 
he  added,  “ If  you  and  Bigler  will  procure  the  indictment  of 


BACK  TO  HEALTH. 


573' 

each  other,  you  may  have  the  satisfaction  of  putting  each- 
other  in  the  penitentiary  for  the  forgery  of  my  acceptances.” 

Bigler  and  Small  did  not  quarrel  however.  They  both 
attacked  Mr.  Bolton  behind  his  back  as  a swindler,  and  circu- 
lated the  story  that  he  had  made  a fortune  by  failing. 

In  the  pure  air  of  the  highlands,  amid  the  golden  glories  of 
ripening  September,  Kuth  rapidly  came  back  to  health.  How 
beautiful  the  world  is  to  an  invalid,  whose  senses  are  all  clari- 
fied, who  has  been  so  near  the  world  of  spirits  that  she  is 
sensitive  to  the  finest  influences,  and  whose  frame  responds  ^ 
with  a thrill  to  the  subtlest  ministrations  of  soothing  nature. 
Mere  life  is  a luxury,  and  the  color  of  the  grass,  of  the 
flowers,  of  the  sky,  the  wind  in  the  trees,  the  out-lines  of  tho 
horizon,  the  forms  of  clouds,  all  give  a pleasure  as  exquisite* 
as  the  sweetest  music  to  the  ear  famishing  for  it.  The  world 
was  all  new  and  fresh  to  Kuth,  as  if  it  had  just  been  created 


ALICE; 


for  her,  and  love  filled  it,  till  her  heart  was  overflowing  with 
happiness. 


ALICE. 


It  was  golden  September  also  at  Fallkill.  And  Alice  sat 
by  the  open  window  in  her  room  at  home,  looking  out  upon 
the  meadows  where  the  laborers  were  cutting  the  second  crop 
of  clover.  The  fragrance  of  it  floated  to  her  nostrils.  Perhaps 
she  did  not  mind  it.  She  was  thinking.  She  had  just  been 
writing  to  Puth,  and  on  the  table  before  her  was  a yellow 
piece  of  paper  with  a faded  four-leaved  clover  pinned  on  it — 
only  a memory  now.  In  her  letter  to  Puth  she  had  poured 
out  her  heartiest  blessings  upon  them  both,  with  her  dear  love 
forever  and  forever. 

“ Thank  God,’’  she  said,  “ they  will  never  know.” 

They  never  would  know.  And  the  world  never  knows 
how  many  women  there  are  like  Alice,  whose  sweet  but 
lonely  lives  of  self-sacriflce,  gentle,  faithful,  loving  souls,  bless 
it  continually. 

“ She  is  a dear  girl,”  said  Philip,  when  Puth  showed  him 
the  letter. 

“ Yes,  Phil,  and  we  can  spare  a great  deal  of  love  for  her, 
•our  own  lives  are  so  fuU.’\ 


nnrrK 


APPENDIX. 


APPENDIX. 


Perhaps  some  apology  to  the  reader  is  necessary  in  view  of 
our  failure  to  find  Laura’s  father.  We  supposed,  from  the 
ease  with  which  lost  persons  are  found  in  novels,  that  it 
would  not  be  difiicult.  But  it  was ; indeed,  it  was  impossible ; 
and  therefore  the  portions  of  the  narrative  containing  the 
record  of  the  search  have  been  stricken  out.  Not  because 
they  were  not  interesting — for  they  were ; but  inasmuch  as 
the  man  was  not  found,  after  all,  it  did  not  seem  wise  to 
harass  and  excite  the  reader  to  no  purpose. 

The  Authoes. 


\ 


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PRESERVATION  REVIEW 


